Why The Hero of Ferelden Owes Me Lunch
by LiveFastDieBeautiful21
Summary: In which an innocent elf's lunch is ruined by the future Hero. The Blight through the eyes of the snarky, shadowy hunter Fiah as she overcomes her tragic past, falls in love, and tries (but invariably fails) to keep her bold opinions to herself. All original dialogue and storyline as well as a unique twist on the canon storyline. Includes Cousland, Tabris, Amell, Aeducan and my OC.
1. The Marvelous Hunter

_The hunter stalks her prey, her footsteps silent. Her excellent posture and form are evident; she's a master. The hunter—No, the _majestic_ hunter expertly pulls the bowstring taut, her eyes—did I mention they're gorgeous, sky-blue orbs of magnificence—trained on the wolf._

_Oh yeah. You're going down, little wolf. _

Fiahrel cracked a smile, her inner monologue giving her an unneeded confidence boost. She waited for the wolf to turn, hoping to stick the arrow right through its skull. _Nobody outside the Alienage will eat wolf meat anyway. The pelt will sell for good coin, though. Yep. That's a nice pelt. Now turn your damn head._

After a moment, the wolf turned, and Fiahrel loosed the arrow.

And missed.

"Shit." Fiahrel notched another arrow and fired quickly, catching the startled wolf in the hindquarters. Still, it ran after her. Deftly, Fiahrel shrugged the bow over her shoulder and pulled herself into one of the trees, scrambling up a few limbs.

Once she was sure she was safe, she grabbed her bow and an arrow – noticing with a groan how empty her quiver was becoming – and shot the wolf again. It hit the beast straight in its chest, and the wolf fell dead.

"No pelt for Fiah," she grumbled, sliding off the tree limb and landing softly on the ground. She pulled the two arrows out of the animal, grimacing at the sound. Wiping the tips on the wolf, she shoved the arrows back in her quiver. "No point going back for the other one. You, little wolf, are coming with me."

With a grunt, Fiah lifted the wolf onto her shoulder, slinging blood around her. _Now, I'll have to spend all the coin from this wolf on new clothes. Ugh. This isn't worth it. _

For a moment, a familiar thought entered Fiah's mind—she could leave Denerim and join the Dalish. There, she could hunt all day and always return home to food.

But she shook her head, ridding herself of the thought. _Too risky. Too dirty. Nope, I'm going back to my nice, warm bed. Acceptable, not-quite-cold, straw-filled, scratchy mattress covered with a blanket made from old, sweat-stained trousers,_ she amended with a frown.

_Maker, I hate the Alienage._

Sighing, Fiah focused on making her way through the forest. It wasn't too long before she reached Denerim, her shoulders and back aching from carrying the wolf. Under the cover of night, she would – hopefully – go unnoticed by the guards. An armed elf was a dead elf, her father used to say.

As she approached the entrance to the Alienage, she groaned as she saw the normal guard wasn't there. His replacement, a burly man twice Fiah's size, grunted a warning as she came closer.

"What are _you_ doing out after dark? And what's that you've got?"

"It's a wolf, ser," Fiah offered, making her voice timid and shaky. "I found it on the way to the city. It's the only food my family will have. Please, ser."

"Fine. Just get in there before somebody else sees you." He waved her in, rolling his eyes.

Fiah half-jogged past him so he wouldn't catch sight of her bow or makeshift quiver. "Idiot," she mumbled under her breath once she was safely in the Alienage. "Oh, my poor family," she quipped in falsetto. "Too bad they're dead." Fiah chuckled grimly. _Everyone always assumes you're part of a poor, hungry family. No one ever guesses that, besides the crappy house, I live a wonderful life of solitude and meat._

_The magnificent, glorious, triumphant hunter returns home. Watch her quick, silent steps and fear her. She's deadly. She's beautiful. She's Fiahrel._

_And she's going to be rich in the morning._

* * *

"Surprise!"

Fiah shot out of bed, sputtering as wine dripped into her mouth, nose and eyes. "Dammit. What'd I tell you about waking me up by splashing stuff in my face?" she scolded, wiping the wine away with the hem of her shirt. When she could see again, she glared at the elf in front of her. "You're already drunk, aren't you, Faelid?"

"No," he snorted, laughing. "A little." Grinning, he grabbed Fiah's wrist and pulled her out of bed. "C'mon, the wedding's going to start and we won't be there and that means no more wine."

Rolling her eyes, Fiah groaned, "The wedding. I forgot all about it. That means I can't trade in the Alienage today." She inspected the clothes she was wearing and found them mostly clean, so instead of changing, she grabbed the wolf from the night before. She had cut and cleaned the meat, and done her best to preserve as much of the pelt as possible. _Lots of coin, Fiah_, her mind cheered.

Faelid shrugged, inspecting the goblet he was carrying. "I'm supposed to go find Soris," he grumbled suddenly. "Should I tell Kielle to wait on you?"

Fiah's eyes widened in alarm. "Maker, no! I'm not dealing with that woman right now. I'll try to be at the wedding. For Soris," she clarified. "Not Kielle." Grabbing the crate of wolf meat, Fiah shoved Faelid out of her house, letting the crooked door swing shut behind them.

To her surprise, the Alienage wasn't full of drunken elves and other various party-goers; the mood was rather grim. Fiah caught sight of a few humans near the entrance, rushing out. _So close,_ she lamented silently. _I'll bet the wedding was almost canceled._

Big events were rare in the Alienage, and Fiah preferred it that way. She liked the quiet, disease-ridden lifestyle that the city slums offered; excitement wasn't for her. Her daily trip to the market was more than enough excitement for her, and she only did that for the money it brought.

She sighed, not looking forward to spending today's market trip surrounded by humans; the elves were bad enough. Even so, the humans would undoubtedly pay more. Fiah knew the wolf supply in the Denerim market was woefully tiny.

_Why, Fiah, what an excellent specimen you've brought. Such a lovely wolf is worth at least twelve sovereigns! _

_Ah, yes. Twelve will do, I suppose, though I was hoping for closer to fifteen._

_You're quiet right, Fiah! You're such a mighty, wonderful, stunning hunter! I'll give you _twenty_ sovereigns, just because you're so amazing!_

_Yes_, Fiah thought, tipping her face to the sun as she entered into the market, _sing my praises, little market-men._

She plopped the crate down on the stall she sometimes sold to. "Wolf meat," she began, opening the crate. "I'm looking for two sovereigns. I'll throw in the pelt for an extra three."

"Five sovereigns?" The merchant looked at Fiah like she was insane. "I'll give you a sovereign for the meat, and fifty silver for the pelt."

"Make it two sovereigns," Fiah crooned, "and I'll let you keep the crate."

The merchant gave a little "hmph" and inspected the crate. "Fine. Two sovereigns."

"Nice doing business with you," Fiah smiled, plucking the gold coins from his hands. Hiding her disappointment, she sauntered back to the Alienage. As much as she hated excitement, she owed it to Soris to be at his wedding.

Not far from the Alienage entrance, Soris waved Fiah over to where he was standing with three other elves. Two, Fiah didn't recognize. The other was her least favorite person.

Kielle Tabris.

Armed with her signature sneer and bad attitude, Kielle looked ready to punch her betrothed—at least, that's who Fiah assumed the strange man was—right in the face, simply for existing. She fidgeted in her wedding clothes as Fiah approached.

"Hello, Soris." She pointedly avoided Kielle.

"You made it," he breathed with relief. "I saw you go to the market and wasn't sure you'd make it in time." Quickly, he added, "These are our betrothed, Nelaros and—"

"They're going to start without us," Kielle interrupted, her green eyes piercing. Without waiting for an answer, she marched towards the dais where the wedding would be held.

Fiah turned to the elf to her right. "Sorry, man. You're in for a rough life."

"I'm sure she's—"

"Nope," Fiah interjected. "She's a bitch."

Nelaros gave her a wide-eyed stare, full of disbelief and confusion. "Maybe we should follow her, and you can stay here," Soris suggested, giving Fiah a harsh, scolding look.

She nodded. "I'll be watching." Grumbling to herself about crowds and excitement, Fiah found a place to stand near the dais that was relatively empty of elves. She leaned up against a building whose roof had caved in, hoping the wall didn't decide to crumble as well.

Once both couples had gathered, there were speeches and praises to the Maker and other things that made Fiah sleepy. She had nearly nodded off when the clanking of armor and a few screams caught her attention.

A human—_What's his name? Van? Vaughn? Vincent, maybe?—_marched onto the dais, followed by a small troupe of heavily armed guards. Sensing trouble, Fiah slipped past the flustered crowd and into her house, digging out her hidden bow and quiver. She counted her arrows, cursing.

_Twelve. Blast. I'll have to be careful_.

She carefully notched one, heading back into the sunlight and aiming straight at one of the guards. From where she was standing, it looked like he was holding an elf in front of him, but she couldn't be sure. Either way, Fiah knew she couldn't miss.

_C'mon, Fiah. You can do this._

Taking one last deep breath, Fiah let the arrow fly. It lodged into the guard's armor, hitting him square in the back. He stumbled forward, and Fiah saw Kielle's blond ponytail as she ducked out of the way. Before the guards could react, Fiah had already shot another arrow. This one landed in the shoulder of another guard.

By now, two of the guards were running for Fiah. Using the skills she had acquired after years of hunting, she slipped her bow on her shoulder and jumped, grabbing the edge of the roof of her house and pulling herself onto the roof. Quickly notching another arrow, she shot at one of the guards following her; it pierced the center of his forehead, but Fiah couldn't allow herself even a second to celebrate. The other guard was trying to follow her onto the roof, struggling to pull himself up.

_The stupid roof won't hold_, Fiah realized with panic. Groaning, she sprinted across her rooftop and leapt onto the adjoining building, hoping she didn't fall through into someone's house. She was quick to right herself, carefully tiptoeing along the edge of the roof until she reached the end.

Already regretting her choice, Fiah jumped for the dais. She slammed into Kielle, who was busy wresting a sword from one of the guards. "Get off!" she yelled, pushing Fiah roughly.

There was a sharp _crack_ as Fiah rolled off the dais and onto the hard dirt of the Alienage. Momentarily stunned in disbelief, Fiah held up the remains of her bow. _Now I'm completely useless_. _Guess I'll have to wait for Kielle to kill all the guards. Either that, or we're all dead._

Her heart sunk as Kielle flew off the dais as well, blood spattering her face. Crimson was beginning to blossom on the sleeve of her wedding dress, but she just stood and called out another challenge to the guard who'd thrown her down.

"I _do_ like a little spirit," a voice mocked, "but this is ridiculous." The human—_Vaughn sounds right. The bastard._—appeared on the edge of the dais, grinning. He had an elf thrown over his shoulder. It looked like Shianni, but Fiah couldn't be certain. It didn't matter, though; she wasn't about to let any one of the humans take any elf from the Alienage.

_Great idea, but you're weaponless. And look at those arms—totally pathetic. You should work out more often, in case something like this ever happens again. _

Fiah sighed, feeling helpless. Kielle glared at her for a moment before turning back to the guards.

_The marvelous hunter has been defeated. Her companion, an angry, thick-skulled wants-to-be-a-hunter, growls in an attempt to frighten the predators. Too late, she just looks stupid. The marvelous hunter, however, looks beaten._

_Marvelous, but beaten._

Fiah gasped as a guard came up behind her and threw her over his shoulder. "Let me down!" she protested, trying to push away from him. In answer, he threw her onto the ground and quickly tied her hands and feet together before roughly gagging her.

_Damn. Now the marvelous hunter looks as stupid as her companion._

Grunting in protest, Fiah did everything she could to fight against her capture, which wasn't much. She wasn't sure what the rest of Denerim would think about three elves being dragged through the city, but she figured no one would care enough to do anything.

_The marvelous hunter is paraded around like the wolves she kills. Her excellent poise and posture are no longer evident, hidden by her irritation._

_The marvelous hunter _hates_ excitement. _


	2. Surviving

**A/N:** Two things: One, I might re-write this chapter in the future. I'm not overly fond of some parts of it, but I'll be sure to make a note if/when I do re-write it.

Two, as a character development exercise, I've been doing little background one-shots for some of the characters. The first one I'll have up is the Cousland background, which should be posted in a couple days.

As always, thanks for reading! Suggestions/criticisms always appreciated!

* * *

_And so begins the hunter's daring escape._

_Her plans involve curling up and crying, waiting for a rescue, and glaring at her evil roommate. The hunter is the underdog; nobody expects her to win, not even herself._

Fiah and Kielle had been dumped in a small room inside the arl's estate. Shianni was taken to another room with Vaughn.

In a matter of minutes, Kielle had wriggled out of the ropes that bound her. She reached into her boot and pulled out a thin knife, cutting Fiah's ropes as well. "We have to get out of here."

"Right," Fiah scoffed. "Two unarmed women, dressed in formal attire, escaping from a heavily-guarded estate."

Kielle rushed forward, gathering the collar of Fiah's shirt in a fist and pulling her close. "We're two elves. One of us is unarmed," she seethed through gritted teeth, "and the other is prepared." Releasing Fiah, she added, "Start with the door. Pick the lock."

"I can't just pick the lock," Fiah groaned, crossing her arms.

"You've done it before." Kielle' green eyes were cold and challenging.

_The hunter's dull companion seems to have picked up on her weekly raids of the humans' general store. Perhaps she also knows of the hunter's daring break-ins at the tavern. In a very sophisticated and marvelous manner, the hunter concedes and picks the lock. She is graceful. And marvelous._

"Done."

"Good."

"Alright."

Kielle glared at her. "You first."

Rolling her eyes, Fiah slipped through the door. Assuming the role of scout, she crept around the empty room. Slowly, she opened the door to the adjacent room and slithered around the tables.

_The hunter seems to be in a sort of dining hall. Three guards are woefully unaware of the graceful, magnificent hunter. They appear to be playing cards. More silent and amazing than ever, the hunter moves through the room, undetected, making her way to—_

The door that Fiah was headed towards slammed open, revealing Soris and Nelaros. Fiah slunk back behind a liquor cabinet in surprise, not wanting the guards to see her. Just as the guards scrambled to attention, Kielle appeared in the other doorway.

Jumping around the guard that lunged at him, Soris slid a greatsword between one of the rows of tables, right into Kielle's waiting hand. With a feral cry, she leapt at the guard nearest her and lopped his head off with one clean swipe. Soris, wielding his own sword, chased after a guard with a crossbow. When the guard finally fell, Fiah darted across the room and confiscated the bow. With a grunt, she flipped the body over and took the quiver, too.

_The hunter is totally magnificent once more_.

When Fiah stood and turned back towards the others, the first thing that caught her eye was Nelaros' still body. "Well, this rescue is going wonderfully." Noticing Soris' pallor, she added, "Let's get out of here before anyone else important is killed."

"Get out," Kielle ordered.

Soris shook his head, clutching the sword stubbornly. "I came to save Shianni."

"Let him stay," Fiah suggested. Not only did she feel safer with a third weapon in their group, she couldn't wait to give Kielle a smug "Ha, I win" smile.

Kielle scowled at Fiah, but set off down the hall without another word.

_The hunter gives her dull companion her best "Ha, I win" smile. Hunter: 1. Dull companion: 0._

"Come on, Soris." Loading the crossbow, Fiah followed Kielle out. Soris stayed near her, his fearful breaths even louder than his clumsy footsteps.

The trio emerged into a hallway lined with small windows at the top of the walls. Fiah glanced up at the tiny openings, then focused on the guard that Kielle was charging. She clumsily shot a few arrows, not entirely comfortable using a crossbow. The guard fell and Kielle and Soris charged on.

Fiah made a snap decision. She'd been in this position once before—with her father, before he'd died—and she knew what she had to do to survive. Rescuing Shianni was a noble idea, but at the end of the day, Fiah was just a hunter who wanted to live to see the sun rise the next morning. "I can't stay for this," she called, dropping the bow and quiver. She had seen a chance to escape without putting her life in any more danger, and she intended to take advantage of that chance.

"You coward!" Kielle snarled, drawing her greatsword. "Do you have _any_ idea what they could be doing to Shianni?"

"You're not helping her much by just standing around," Fiah pointed out, hiding her own disappointment in her cowardice with a cocky smile. Ignoring the wave of despair that veiled Soris' face, Fiah kicked open a door on the side of the hall and swung up onto the doorframe, clinging to the cold stone of the hall. Guards ran out of the room, but they were too late; Fiah leapt again, her fingers latching onto the window.

_The hunter flees the battleground. The hunter is, in fact, a coward. Not even a marvelous coward. She values her own life above that of an innocent elf. _

_The hunter deserves whatever fate the guards and that bastard Vaughn can conjure up, but it doesn't matter. The hunter has already fled._

Fiah ran across the uneven rooftop, holding her arms wide out to help balance. Her mind worked furiously to figure out how she would get down, but her feet kept running. She finally found a watchtower, which would be her exit. Sprinting towards the stone tower, she slipped.

Crying out in surprise, Fiah landed hard on her left side and began sliding down the roof. She clawed at the roof, trying to find a hold, but to no avail. Desperately, she flailed around as she felt her feet slip off the edge. Her hands grasped the edge as the rest of her began tumbling to the ground, yanking her shoulders painfully.

_The hunter is experiencing karma, and is reminded that excitement is a terrible thing._

Figuring she was relatively safe—as safe as one could be in her position—Fiah surveyed the ground below her, trying to find a way to control her drop to the dirt below. She was, luckily, in a back alleyway, and not in the city center, so she could hopefully remain unseen.

Spying a stack of crates to her left, she began slowly inching sideways, moving hand over hand, her legs swaying beneath her. Fiah was just a few inches away when her fingers began to ache. _I'm going to die because I have weak fingers_, she thought with a grimace. _Wonderful_.

Still, she decided to take the chance. She swung her legs to the left and rocketed forward, landing almost horizontally on the crates and sending them crashing to the ground. Fiah escaped with little more than sore fingers and a scrape on her elbow.

Satisfied, she made her way out of the alley and into the marketplace. Upon seeing her crate of wolf meat from that morning, she groaned. _Maker. I can't step foot back in the Alienage. How am I supposed to get my money? _Without money, she couldn't buy a new bow. Without a bow, she couldn't hunt. Without hunting, she couldn't earn any more money.

_Should've kept the crossbow, you idiot._

Sighing, Fiah sauntered up to the merchant from earlier and gave him her most charming grin. "Hello, again," she greeted him. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to loan me a single sovereign?"

He crossed his arms, not amused. "In exchange for what?"

"I—uhh, I don't know. My shoes?" Fiah held her hands up, as in surrender. "Anything. I just need some money."

"No."

Undeterred, Fiah decided to find money elsewhere. She headed straight for the tavern. From there, it was a simple routine she had perfected: a little coin from the safebox in the back room, a little wine from the cabinet in the cellar, and a little more coin from the bar.

Fiah was able to slip in and out quickly, without anyone noticing. By the time she was done, she had sold the wine for three sovereigns a piece and had the six sovereigns she'd stolen. She picked up a simple set of armor, a thin bow, and some arrows before heading out of the city.

The guard at the gates stopped her, grabbing her wrist roughly and demanding, "Where's an elf like you going?"

Raising an eyebrow, Fiah tugged out of his grasp. "To the Dalish."

* * *

Life outside the city wasn't much different than life in the Alienage. The beds were uncomfortable, you could always see the stars, and drinking water came from the nearest ditch.

Fiah was able to do more walking than hunting. When she decided to stop for the night, she would usually try to get a fire started while she went out and hunted, typically bringing back small game like a rabbit or squirrel. Half was cooked and eaten, and half was cooked and saved.

Her mornings started similarly, with a quick hunt and fire. If a stream was nearby, Fiah would take a quick bath before starting up for the day. Mostly, though, she walked, trying to reach the Brecilian Forest from memories of maps she hadn't seen in ages.

On her second day, she passed a caravan traveling to the city. Fiah followed them for a bit, waiting for them to stop for lunch before she raided their goods. She was able to snatch some bread, a bowl, some water, and a coin purse, deciding to play it safe and duck back into the trees before anyone had a chance to see her.

As she climbed up a tree branch, she caught some of the group's conversation.

"They say its Loghain's fault," the leader, a short, chubby man, had remarked.

"Tactical retreat, I say," his partner growled. "That Loghain's a military genius. He knew that blasted King was no good."

"He knew the Grey Wardens would kill Cailan?" the first man shot back sarcastically.

"Maybe."

"Doesn't matter," the leader shrugged. "They're dead, aren't they? The Wardens, I mean."

At this, the partner chuckled gleefully. "If not, they will be soon. Loghain'll see to that."

Fiah settled into a more comfortable position, leaning her back against the tree trunk. _The king dead and no one's sure who to blame. Grey Wardens, or Loghain. Or both? _Grimacing, she wondered, _Is this politics?_ She picked at her newly-confiscated bread thoughtfully, wondering what this meant for the elves.

_Who's to take the throne, now? _

_I suppose the Dalish don't care, though_.

With a sad sigh, Fiah grabbed her pack and dropped stealthily to the forest floor. She wanted to get to the Dalish camp soon, and that meant she didn't have time to worry about the humans' politics. The worries that refused to slip her mind, though, were those of Shianni and the other elves. In the days she had spent walking, she'd had plenty of time to consider exactly what her motives had been.

Fiah had always had a bit too much pride – and she knew it. In the arl's estate, though, she had known there was no way out. Kielle could fight, sure. But Fiah? She was just a hunter who scraped a living out by selling meat and stealing coin. In the shadows, she felt invincible, but out in the open…

She shivered. She knew exactly what fate she had left the other elves to, and the guilt chilled her to the bone.

And now, she was running away from it. Sure, she could disguise it by claiming she was just going to the Dalish like she'd always dreamed, but Fiah knew otherwise. She was a coward. For the second time in her life, she'd run away to save herself at the expensive of someone else's life.

_The hunter trudges on, haunted by her past. More haunting, though, is that she knows she'll push it all away, and carry on like it never happened. Stealing, manipulating, and surviving. _

_This is how the hunter truly lives. She isn't a hunter, really. She's a rogue. _

_And a damn good one. In fact, I'd call her marvelous._


	3. Lunch

**A/N: **Alright! Here's the Wardens! So, yes, I used a Cousland. No, she won't be a Mary-Sue. Trust me. Now that I've got this chapter up, I'll be posting Tanya's background, which is titled "A Pup Treading Underfoot."

A huge thank you to everyone who's followed this so far! Reviews full of compliments/complaints/suggestions are always welcomed and loved!

* * *

_Rogue._

_Rogue._

_Rooooogggue._

_Rogue rogue rogue. Rrrrrogue._

Fiah smiled, satisfied with her newfound role in life. No longer the hungry, desperate hunter, she was a shadowy, thieving rogue. It hadn't taken her long to settle into her new role; in fact, she'd cleared her conscience almost immediately.

If there was any thought in her mind that she was trying to forget her guilt, she pushed it away. _Does a thief feel guilty about stealing coin to survive? Nope. Besides, what I do isn't about being a good person; it's about surviving._

There was comfort in this truth. Everything Fiah had donesince the death of her father had been for survival. Without anyone to lean on, she'd been forced to take up the burdens of her life and survive the only way she knew how: hunting. Sure, her raids on the tavern were sometimes excessive, but all the money went towards food or clothes. Fiah had left all her coin at her run-down house, but it was only a few sovereigns; she wasn't exactly rich.

From her perch in a tree branch, Fiah rummaged through her pack and pulled out some bread. She nibbled at the edges, not sure when another caravan would pass by for her to raid. When she finished, she gathered her few possessions and hopped down, landing nearly silently.

She shifted her quiver on her shoulder, making it easier to grab an arrow. The forest was beginning to thin, and she wanted to have one last hearty meal before being forced to survive on bread and plant life. _The next caravan better have a map_, she grimaced, _or I'll never make it to the Dalish camp._ From what she could figure, she'd been traveling south-west for three days, which should have landed her in the heart of the Brecilian Forest. Instead, she was leaving the forest.

So, she'd altered her plans, deciding to keep travelling until she could find either a town or a map. So far, she'd found nothing.

Well, nothing except a small herd of deer, which she was planning on eating.

_The rogue takes up the premise of hunter, following the deer's tracks deeper into the forest. Oh, look! She found them._

With an excited grin, Fiah silently notched an arrow. She knelt low, hiding behind a dense bush. The herd only had four deer, but there was a young doe that she'd been eyeing hungrily all morning. Breathing out slowly, Fiah ran her calloused fingers up the arrow, letting the feathered end slide against her skin.

_Now_.

In one swift motion, Fiah pulled back and shot. The arrow hit the doe in the stomach and the herd took off. Fiah leapt from behind the bush, notching another arrow as she ran after the deer. She lowered the bow for a moment, pumping her arms to sprint forward. Knowing she wouldn't be able to keep up with the herd for much longer, she pulled up short and prepared to shoot.

A startled cry caught Fiah off-guard. "Alistair, there's a deer!" The woman's shrill voice called out again. "Oh, there's an arrow! Alistair!"

"Yes, Alistair," Fiah grumbled, "stop my lunch. Please." Slinging the bow onto her shoulder, Fiah trudged through the forest and straight into a camp.

"I assume _you_ to be the culprit of this morning's excitement?" a suave voice demanded. To Fiah's left stood a strange woman, clothed in rather revealing robes. "I've asked a question," the woman quipped. "Don't just stare."

_The rogue will delight in raiding this woman's tent. She won't find patience or manners, but maybe there will be some coin._

"If you're referring to the doe, yes; that was my arrow and my lunch," Fiah replied coolly, crossing her arms. "I don't suppose you know where it's run off too?"

"No. 'Tis unfortunate we don't have these interruptions more often," the woman lamented, the barest hint of a wry grin playing at the edge of her dark lips. "I _told_ them we should've packed up camp at dawn."

"Did you make a friend, Morrigan?" a man's voice called from the main camp.

"So," the woman – Morrigan – crooned, deceptively sweet, "the templar is finally awake, is he?"

"Shut up."

The woman whose cries Fiah had heard earlier interrupted the short-lived argument. "It doesn't matter. It's as good a time as any to pack up camp." She poked her head out of her tent, running her fingers through her tangled brown hair. "Who's this?" she asked, gesturing to Fiah.

Fiah bowed theatrically, ignoring her bow as it slid down to the crook of her elbow. "Fiahrel the huntress and rogue, once a citizen of the Alienage. Now, I'm just an elf without her lunch."

"Oh." The woman's hand flew to her mouth as she gasped, her eyes following the trail the doe had made. "Your… lunch?"

"Not anymore." Fiah grinned widely, hoping the strange trio knew she wasn't angry. Well, she was irritated, but more at the situation than the group.

Digging through her pack, the woman stuttered an apology. "I didn't realize… I'm sorry." She looked up with a tired sigh. "We're out of food, too."

"No, we're not," the man called cheerfully, dragging his own pack out of his tent. Looking up at Fiah, he flashed a boyish smile. "Alistair. Pleased to meet you. This is Tanya, and I see you've met Morrigan." He sat on a log near the remnants of a fire pit. "We have cheese and bread. Oh! And this cheese from that strange Chantry woman in Lothering."

Tanya laughed softly, motioning for Fiah to join her on one of the logs. "I'm sorry we can't really make up for…" She waved towards where the doe had run off. "After the Blight, I'll buy you lunch. Promise."

"I'll hold you to that." Fiah stepped over the log and sat, across the pit from Alistair. "Might I ask where you're headed?"

At this, Tanya's brown gaze flicked to Alistair. "Umm…" When Alistair just shrugged, she cleared her throat. "Well, we're headed to the Dalish."

_The rogue now believes in miracles._

"You don't think I could maybe join you?" Fiah squeaked, not wanting to intrude. "I'm headed to the Dalish, but I don't have maps or anything." She held up her empty hands. "Just me and my bow."

Again, Tanya looked to Alistair. Again, he just shrugged. "We could always use another weapon," she said slowly, the statement coming out as a question. Grinning a bit, she snatched a piece of bread from Alistair. He protested, but gave in with a sigh.

"I'm not much of a fighter," Fiah admitted, "but I've spent most of my life hunting, and I know how to get a good deal with merchants. Sort of," she amended. "Elven merchants. Human ones don't listen very well."

"Any help is appreciated," Tanya assured her. "We're…" she hesitated, glancing over at Alistair again. "We're Grey Wardens."

Alistair broke his silence, adding, "We're gathering support against the Blight. That's why we're headed for the Dalish."

_There's likely to be lots of coin involved in traveling all across Ferelden. Probably lots of chances to die, too. And lots of excitement. _

_But lots of coin._

"Maybe I could continue travelling with you," she offered amiably. Remembering the conversation between the merchants, Fiah asked, "What exactly happened with…" She trailed off, trying to remember the name. "Oh, it's on the tip of my tongue," she muttered. "The king, and his advisor."

The two Wardens shared a grim look. "Loghain is trying to convince everyone that the Wardens committed an act of treason," Tanya admitted slowly. "He says we caused the death of King Cailan. We didn't, though. It was Loghain who retreated from Ostagar." Looking away, she mumbled, "I don't want to talk about it."

Fiah shrugged. "I was just curious."

"Well, dear Wardens," Morrigan called, "can we _finally _be off? If we had left when I had suggested, we could be in the forest already." She sauntered past the fire pit, barely casting a fleeting glance over her shoulder.

_The rogue wonders what she's getting herself into. The rogue decides the coin better be worth it._

* * *

"A templar and a Witch of the Wilds, huh?" Fiah readjusted the strap of her quiver, wiping sweat off her brow. The further the group descended into the Brecilian Forest, the warmer and stuffier it got. "And what about you, Tanya?"

"Highever," she answered smoothly. "I picked up my skills from my family."

_Somebody's lying. Or not telling the whole truth. Maker, this woman's terrible. And she calls herself a rogue?_

"What about you?" Tanya asked, quickly shifting the focus back to Fiah. "You said you're from the Alienage?"

"Yep." Deciding to spare them her bleak background, Fiah simply said, "I've been hunting most of my life. It's how I survive." She stepped over a thick root and glanced up at the darkening sky. It was getting too dark to see properly, and she was about to suggest they stop for the night when Alistair stopped suddenly.

"Here," he announced. "We're making camp here. I'm absolutely famished."

"Alistair—"

The templar shook his head adamantly. "I'm not taking one more step, Tanya."

From somewhere behind them, Morrigan clicked her tongue in disapproval. "We _could_ be at the Dalish camp. 'Tis a shame we didn't leave camp earlier."

"Don't start, you two," Tanya chastised. "Alistair, you start making a fire. I'll set up the tents. Fiah, see if you can find something in this forest to eat. Morrigan—don't say anything to Alistair."

Setting her pack down, Fiah grabbed her bow and set off through the forest, moving quickly but silently. In this part of the forest, the dead leaves had built up on the ground, making it difficult for Fiah to stay quiet. After a while, she swung up onto a tree branch and travelled that way; the elf hopped from tree to tree, tiptoeing along the branches.

It wasn't hard, considering how dense the forest was, and it was easier for Fiah to keep silent. She went a few minutes without catching sight or sound of any prey, but a rustle below soon caught her attention. Steadying herself against a tree trunk, Fiah peered down onto the forest floor.

_Maker. Bears._

She hated the beasts. They were big, hard to kill, and could shake Fiah out of her trees. From what she could see, though, these were sleeping.

_Too easy. Looks like a mother and two cubs. One arrow through the big skull, probably four arrows for the cubs once they awaken._

Notching an arrow, Fiah concentrated on the largest bear. After a moment, she slackened the bowstring and shoved the arrow back in her quiver. It would be too hard and too risky to take the shot from her current vantage point. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she pulled the bow onto her shoulder and grabbed the tree branch, slowly lowering herself. Her feet dangled in the air, not far from the ground. Wincing, she let go.

Thankfully, her landing was relatively silent. Moving swiftly, Fiah grabbed an arrow and trained it on the bear.

_And… GO!_

_Nice._

The arrow landed squarely through the bear's skull, the tip barely sticking out on the other side. Not waiting for the cubs to rise, Fiah notched another arrow and shot them both quickly. She was able to retrieve all three arrows, and grinned at her success.

_The rogue has just completed what was possibly the easiest hunt _ever_. She's never had the luck of stumbling upon sleeping bears. If only she could sell the pelts at Denerim. Oh, well. _

_Meat._

Fiah's stomach growled, and she quickly set to work carving large chunks of meat from the eldest bear. Once she'd collected all she could carry, she wrapped it in the bear's pelt, hoping she could clean it and sell it later. She tucked the pelt and meat under her arm, hurrying back to the camp. Through the thick trees, she could just barely make out the glow of a fire.

"You're back already?" Alistair glanced up from where he was kneeling by the fire.

In answer, Fiah set her bundle next to him. "I gathered all I could carry, but there's more back…" She turned to point to where she had come from, but the forest all looked eerily similar in the shadows. "Well, there's more." Pulling out her knife, she began helping Alistair cut the meat into smaller pieces, dropping them into the stew pot when she was finished.

As she was finishing up, Tanya joined them at the fire. "So, who's doing the cooking tonight?" she asked casually.

"If you don't like what I make, you can just say so," Alistair groaned. In the firelight, Fiah could just make out a lighthearted gleam in his eyes.

"_I_ have said so. Several times, in fact," Morrigan offered, slinking through the shadows to join the group.

Alistair narrowed his eyes at the mage. "_You_ do it then."

Morrigan smirked. "You trust me not to poison you?"

"Point taken." Alistair sighed. "What are you doing over here, anyway? What happened to having your own little camp?" His casual remark brought on a disapproving look from Tanya, but the templar seemed not to notice.

"I happen to like our newest companion," she stated a-matter-of-factly. "She's the first woman I've met—besides Flemeth and myself—who has been entirely comfortable in the wild." Her golden eyes flashed mischievously and she added, "I was also curious as to who will be cooking from now on."

Fiah let her chin rest in her hands. "I gather the meat, I don't cook it." A uniform groan escaped the rest of the group. "Oh, come on," she chuckled. "It can't be that bad."

* * *

_After further investigation, the rogue takes back all claims that the food "can't be that bad." _

_The rogue will do her best to convince Morrigan to cook, and _not_ poison them all. The rogue believes she will be unsuccessful. _


	4. Cowardice

**A/N: **Hmmm... Updating this only once a week is frustrating. I've already written up to chapter twelve, so I'm considering switching to updates twice a week.

Opinions?

And as always, criticism/suggestions are loved and welcomed!

* * *

Fiah hadn't ever liked tents much. She supposed she should be thankful that the trio had an extra for her to sleep in, but she awoke feeling claustrophobic beneath the canopy of cloth.

Upon awaking, the elf slipped out of her tent and climbed a nearby tree, perching on a wide branch. She breathed in the steamy air of the forest, glaring angrily at the dense leaves over her head. She longed to see the sky properly, and not just bits and glimpses whenever they found a gap in the trees. Settling against the rough trunk of the tree, Fiah propped her feet up and closed her eyes, allowing the sounds of the forest to soothe her.

_The rogue is content. She wishes she could spend her life like this, quietly surviving in the wild forests. No excitement, just survival._

A rustle of fabric caught her attention. Silently, she swung her legs around and let them hang off the branch, peering through the leaves at the noise. Tanya left her tent and sat at the edge of last night's fire pit, looking rather solemn.

Fiah watched her for a moment, perplexed. This wasn't the laughing, light-hearted woman she had seen leading the group; this was a worried, lonely girl who looked like she was aching with homesickness. Feeling a pang of unprecedented sympathy for Tanya, Fiah slowly dropped from the branch and joined her at the fire pit.

"You're up already?" Tanya asked quietly.

"Unfortunately," Fiah smiled. "Between this blasted heat and Alistair's snoring, I'm amazed I got any sleep at all."

Tanya laughed lightly, turning her eyes to her bare hands. She remained silent for a moment, then sighed.

Catching her sad look, Fiah asked, "So, tell me about your life in Highever. I know you don't seem to want to talk about it," she defended quickly, raising her hands as if in surrender, "but what's said at the fire pit can stay at the fire pit. Promise."

She sighed, tucking a strand of dark brown hair behind her ear. "It's… complicated."

"What happened there?"

"I… I ran," Tanya admitted, her voice heavy. "My family was killed in an attack. I should've stayed—" Her voice cracked, and she took a moment to regain her composure. "I should've stayed to help. I could've saved them, but I ran. I saved my own life, when I could've saved theirs."

"I understand," Fiah muttered darkly. Her own guilt seeped back into her mind, reminding her of the lives _she_ could have saved. Shianni, Soris, and Kielle were probably dead, and it was her fault. _The rogue realizes she's terrible at pushing her conscience aside. What is left for her to do? She can no longer save them, so how can she right such a terrible wrong?_ "You do this for them, don't you?" she realized suddenly.

"Fighting the Blight? I do it for all of us," Tanya said grimly. "But, yes. In my heart, I know I do it for them. I couldn't save my family, but I can save others, and _that_ is my task now." The dedication and ferocity that Fiah had seen before were back, giving life to the defeated woman.

Standing, Fiah stretched and yawned. "Well, we'd better get moving. I don't want to be subject to Morrigan's chastisement later."

Tanya narrowed her eyes, inspecting the elf closely. "What about you? There's something you didn't tell us about being in the Alienage, isn't there?"

"There is." Without giving any further answer, Fiah turned and went to wake Morrigan.

* * *

"The camp should be right up here." Alistair pointed to the forest in front of them, his nose buried in the map.

"And you expect the Dalish to allow us to simply walk into their camp?" Morrigan quipped. "Do you not think they would have scouts?"

Alistair tensed visibly, refusing to admit that Morrigan's point was a good one.

"I could scout ahead," Fiah offered. "I know my way through the trees. Finding their camp would be easy enough, and I'd remain unseen. If they _do_ see me…" She shrugged. "I'm an elf. Perhaps they'll listen to me easier than a group of foreign humans." She looked to Alistair for approval, who looked to Tanya.

She nodded, peering over the templar's shoulder to look at the map. "Don't take too long." Tanya looked around nervously, her eyes sweeping the forest around them. "Maybe I'm paranoid, but I have a feeling that we're being followed."

"I'll be quick," Fiah promised. Shedding her pack, she tucked her bow over her shoulder and grabbed a low tree branch, pulling herself up and snaking through the forest. She focused on silence, tiptoeing from branch to branch with steady, practiced feet.

Voices rose up from the forest floor. Crouching, Fiah searched through the leaves, her eyes finally landing on a pair of Dalish archers.

"You'd think the Keeper would send larger patrols," one of them complained to his partner. "With the foreigner, and—what was his name? The one the other clan warned us of?"

"Mahariel," the other Dalish replied. "The one with the sickness?"

"Yes, him. Did Zathrian ever decide what the sickness was?"

The other Dalish shrugged. "Different than the curse, I know that. It's strange – I overheard him talking about the curse with that city elf."

"Pol?"

"No, you dolt. The new one."

_City elf?_ Fiah leaned closer, straining to hear as the archers continued through the forest.

"Oh," the first archer groaned. "That mean woman. Why was Zathrian talking to her? Does he really think she can do anything about the curse?"

"Yes," the other archer stated grimly. "He said he wants her to kill Witherfang."

"He thinks she can?"

The elf snickered. "He said it just like this—" he raised his voice an octave, adopting a nasally yet menacing tone, "'Kielle, I want you to kill Witherfang,' and she looked excited. _Excited_. After everything the Keeper told her about the beast, she was excited."

_Maker help me._ Fiah leaned against the tree trunk, her eyes wide. _If Kielle's in that camp… _

_I can't go there. There's no way I can face her and live. I mean, it's nice to know she's alive, but this puts me in a very, very bad position._ She sat for a moment, contemplating some way to get out of going to the Dalish. Fiah had already decided that she'd probably stick with the Grey Wardens—they weren't terrible company, and saving the world _did _make her feel less guilty about leaving Kielle and her friends to die back in the Alienage—but she couldn't follow them to the Dalish if it meant facing Kielle.

Taking care to avoid the patrol, Fiah snaked back through the forest to where her companions were waiting. She dropped down from her branch and gave them a wide smile. "Well, the Dalish are not where we want to be right now."

"We have to," Tanya insisted, looking up from the map. "These treaties are the difference between life and death in Ferelden."

Doing her best not to wince, Fiah shook her head. "Look, their scouts travel in pairs. Nothing you can't handle. But, I think it would be best if we make the most of our time and split up. There's more treaties, right?" Alistair nodded, and she continued, "Let me go and try to fulfill some of the others."

_Maker_, she berated herself, _What did I just ask to do? Why couldn't I just leave? Well, now the rogue will be launching herself head-first into excitement. Dammit._

Morrigan regarded her with a cold glare. "You're rather eager to leave us."

"After seeing the Dalish in person," Fiah retorted coolly, "I just don't think I'd be welcome. I'm just a city elf. To them, I've forsaken my own history." _Please accept this bullshit. I really need you to accept this bullshit. Please. _

"Here." Tanya offered her a bundle of papers. "A map and the treaty for the Circle. See if you can gather support there, whether from the mages or templars." She looked down, deep in thought. "Go to Redcliffe first," she decided. "Speak to the arl and let him know we'll be coming. We're going to need his support."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Fiah took the papers and nodded. "And if anyone questions why a Grey Warden isn't carrying these?"

Tanya cracked a smile. "Tell them you're an honorary member."

"All the fighting and glory without the taint and nightmares?" Alistair threw his hands up in mock exasperation. "Maker, recruits have it so easy these days."

"I promise to share my honorary fighting and glory," Fiah promised. She smiled warmly at her new companions—even Morrigan—and bid them farewell.

* * *

"How much for a room?"

"Six sovereigns a night."

Fiah sighed at the absurdly high price, mentally inspecting her ever-dwindling coin purse. "Is there anywhere cheaper?" Any normal night, she would have argued, haggling the price down to something she could afford. But she had been on the road all day and wanted only to sleep.

The barkeep grunted. "The Chantry handles charity cases. Otherwise, six sovereigns."

"Thanks." Fiah took one last swig of ale, finishing off her drink. She grabbed her bow and pack and slung them both over her shoulder, heading for the Chantry.

Redcliffe was bustling, even as the sun sank below the horizon. As Fiah wandered down the path from the tavern to the main part of the town, she overheard an argument that piqued her interest.

"The Maker sent me to help the Grey Wardens," a red-haired woman insisted, her words clipped with her Orlesian accent. "They _will_ come here, and you will see – you are mistaken." She planted her hands on her hips and Fiah looked her over, thinking hard. The woman's armor matched her own, and she had two daggers sheathed on her back. At first glance, her rounded face and delicate pout didn't seem to indicate she was much of a rogue, but Fiah knew better—the light-footed stance and sinewy muscle was a blatant hint.

"The Revered Mother has assured me that your claims are folly," the man nearest to her grumbled. "The Maker doesn't grant visions, and Grey Wardens don't help Redcliffe. If you'd like to help, go to the Chantry and sing a song or bless something. Don't bother me further."

Fiah slid into the conversation, seeing an opportunity to gain a new companion. "The Grey Wardens, you say? I come on behalf of the Wardens," she explained, holding up the treaty bearing their seal. "They're headed this way, looking for support from the arl."

"The arl is locked away in his castle. You'll find no support from him," the man grunted. Waving his hand, he turned and walked off, muttering something about Wardens.

"You really know the Grey Wardens?" the red-haired woman asked, her eyes scrutinizing.

Nodding, Fiah turned her own studying eyes onto the woman. "And you are…?"

"Leliana. I came from the Chantry in Lothering after the Wardens refused my help. Perhaps, if you are truly their friend, you could convince them to change their minds?"

"Well, Leliana, I may have misspoken to that kind gentleman," she admitted with a grin. "The Wardens aren't coming, yet. I'm merely here on an errand for them. If you were to accompany me, I'm sure they would think different about refusing your help."

Leliana's eyes lit up. "Oh, of course!" She clasped her hands together excitedly, then froze, looking away sheepishly. "Please, forgive me. This is the path the Maker intended for me, I'm sure of it. What is this errand you are on?"

Taking a deep breath, Fiah began explaining her quest to gain support from the mages. When she finished, Leliana merely nodded.

"We have lots to do. Let's be off," she suggested. "There is daylight yet, and there is no sense in wasting time."

_The rogue does not relish the thought of any more walking today. But, she _would_ rather sleep in the open, as opposed to a stuffy, over-priced room at the inn._

"Right." Fiah set off through the town, glad for the company of another rogue who appreciated the value of a soft step and a quick pace.


	5. Chances

**A/N: **I've decided to switch to Wednesday/Saturday updates, which means more Fiah for everyone!

Now, an apology is in order - This chapter and the next deal with the Circle. Personally, I hate the Circle quest and found it extremely tedious after the first playthrough, so I've basically skipped over most of it and crammed it into two choppy chapters. We're also missing out on all the fun with the Dalish, so sorry for that too. I promise this though - the Orzammar quests will be _epic_. Seriously. As in, screw canon, my Aeducan has her own agenda.

One last thing - super big thanks to **clafount** for the lovely reviews of all the past chapters! I love reviews like Sten loves cookies, so feel free to drop some of your own comments and criticism!

Now, I'll shut up so you can read. :3

* * *

"Your trust surprises me."

"What?" Fiah turned to look at Leliana. So far, she had been quiet with the exception of a quick conversation as they had set up camp the night before. Fiah had been lost in her thoughts the entire morning.

"Your trust," Leliana repeated. "You know nothing of me, except that I was looking for the Wardens. You didn't even know I could fight until we ran into that darkspawn this morning."

A grin slowly spread over Fiah's lips. "Oh, I could tell you knew how to fight. I know a rogue when I see one." Raising an eyebrow, she added, "Besides, _you_ accepted my request without knowing anything about _me_."

Leliana shook her head. "This is the Maker's will. I had a chance to join the Wardens in Lothering, and I failed. This was the second chance I needed." She fidgeted with her pack, looking away with a little frown. "What I know, I know through my faith in my vision."

_Right, the vision. What's the saying? She's one cat away from crazy?_ Fiah shrugged. "Extra weapons are always appreciated," she offered truthfully.

"And if those weapons are unskilled?"

"Darkspawn bait," she grinned.

Leliana frowned again, not seeing the humor. "In the Chantry," she said sadly, "I found peace. The Blight destroyed what I came to know as my home. I hope that, by helping the Wardens, I can find peace again."

"The Chantry didn't teach you to fight, I assume?"

She offered a wry grin. "The Alienage didn't teach _you_ to fight, I assume?"

Though the evasive answer was annoying, Fiah was glad she had found someone on her own roguish level. "Fine," she sighed, "keep your secrets." Glancing up at the sun, she estimated it to be about mid-day. She dug through her pack until she found the map, and trailed her finger alongside the picture of Lake Calenhad. "We're close," she muttered under her breath.

"We've made good time," Leliana agreed. "Is that—Do you see that over there?"

Fiah stopped walking for a moment, shielding her eyes from the sun. At the edge of the lake, there was a few buildings and a dock. "That's where we're headed."

The two women picked up the pace. As they got closer, Fiah could see that a templar guarded the dock. _Good thing I came without the others. Morrigan would've been in for a nasty surprise._

"Halt. The Knight-Commander has ordered that no one enter the tower," he called before they had even descended the hill to the dock.

"We're on official business," Fiah answered, her voice hard. "We come to seek aid for the Grey Wardens."

"Grey Wardens?" the templar scoffed. "You two? I didn't know they let _women_ into the order."

Before Fiah could respond, Leliana had drawn a dagger and was holding it to the templar's throat. "Let us pass," she said calmly, "or I will show you why they let women into the order." The templar grimaced, but agreed.

"The Knight-Commander will take care of you," he growled.

The Circle tower was just a hop, skip, and a boat ride away from the dock. The templar practically shoved them off the boat, grumbling something about a crisis. Once he was back on the water, Fiah turned to Leliana. "Nice work, back there."

She blushed, ducking her face shyly. "Oh, that? It was nothing." Clearing her throat, Leliana suggested they speak to the Knight-Commander. She stepped past Fiah and pushed open the large double doors.

Fiah followed her into the tower, where templars were scurrying about and orders were being thrown from all over. One of the templars caught sight of the two women, and stopped to come greet them.

"The Knight-Commander ordered that no one visit the tower."

"Good." Fiah flashed him a warm smile. "That's exactly who we need to see."

"Cullen," a man called, "what's going on? Who is that?"

The templar smirked down at Fiah. "These women want to speak with you, Knight-Commander." He was joined by another templar, a grey-haired man who carried an aura of confidence and power.

"What?" he demanded tersely. "The Circle is—"

Silenty, Fiah held up the Grey Warden treaty.

The Commander's eyes grew wide. "The Wardens? But… how?"

"We come seeking the aid of the Circle," Fiah explained. "Whether it's the mages or the templars, we need help against the Blight."

"As you can see," the Commander sighed, "we're in no state to help. Until we get these blood mages and abominations taken care of, the templars and mages will remain at the Circle. Cullen," he ordered, turning to the other templar, "send word to the Chantry. We _must_ go forth with the Rite of Annulment."

"Annulment?" Leliana gasped. "You can't!"

The Commander turned to Leliana, his gaze hard. "Any mages not already dead are infested with demons. For the sake of Ferelden, we cannot wait for reinforcements, just to save the few that _may_ be innocent."

"We will go," she volunteered. "We'll save them."

"Leliana," Fiah whispered through gritted teeth, "are you crazy?" If an entire tower full of templars couldn't handle the situation, somehow Fiah wasn't certain that two rogues could make much of a difference.

_The rogue _hates_ self-sacrificing types. Leliana will have to go a long way for me to overlook this little personality quirk about her._

"I will not let innocent men and women be killed." She turned to Fiah, her eyes pleading. "I cannot do this alone. You trusted me in Redcliffe; please, trust me now."

Fiah recalled what Leliana had said earlier—_This was the second chance I needed._ She took a deep breath; maybe _this _was her second chance, a chance to make up for leaving three innocent elves to die at the hands of a human. _Saving innocent mages won't make it up to Kielle, Shianni, and Soris, but it's a start. _Her mind itched with the thought that she couldn't truly make it up to them without actually facing them again one day, but she pushed that aside.

_The rogue realizes, once again, that she's terrible at forgetting about her conscience. But maybe it's better this way._

"If we aren't out by nightfall," Fiah decided, "send word to Redcliffe that we're dead. _Then_ you can send for the Rite. Just give us until nightfall."

"Fair enough." The Commander turned to Cullen. "Be prepared. I don't want to waste a minute if they don't return." He led the women to the doors at the end of the hall and warned them, "We begin the Rite at nightfall, unless the First Enchanter himself stands in front of me." He waved his hands, and the doors were shut.

"That was difficult for you," Leliana noted, her lilting voice echoing through the empty tower halls.

Fiah frowned. "I'm not the self-sacrificing type."

"Why did you agree to this, then?"

With a sigh, she admitted, "I don't know. Mostly, I think it's because… because if they're innocent, they need all the help they can get. Maker knows, I'm not innocent, so why should I be afforded the luxury of safety when they die needlessly?" The words felt foreign on Fiah's lips. She looked down at her feet, feeling unusually self-conscious.

_Oh, dear, sweet, merciful Maker, am I becoming self-sacrificing? I'd better not make this a habit…_

Leliana put a gentle hand on Fiah's shoulder, offering a sympathetic smile. "We are all guilty of our own sins, are we not?" Her words were full of innocence and hope, but the knowing gleam in her eyes made Fiah wonder if Leliana suspected more about her motives than she let on.

Nodding, Fiah turned away. "Well, we've only got till nightfall. Let's make this worth it." She took off down the hall, grabbing an arrow from her quiver and readying her bow. Much to her annoyance, both her and Leliana's footsteps echoed on the tile of the empty, silent halls. As they approached a closed door, Fiah motioned for Leliana to be alert. She could hear a low, dull throbbing coming from the other side.

In one swift motion, Fiah kicked the door open and notched an arrow, ready to shoot whatever was behind the door.

To her surprise, they found neither demon nor abomination, but a ragged group of children and a handful of mages concentrating on a barrier at the far end of the room. One of them, a grey-haired woman, turned on them and held out her staff menacingly.

"Don't co—Who?" she stuttered, obviously expecting someone other than the two women.

Slowly, Fiah lowered her bow. "You wouldn't happen to be the First Enchanter?"

The woman gave Fiah a quizzical look before laughing softly. "It's the hair, isn't it? No, child, I'm not the First Enhanter. Irving is…" She glanced towards the barrier, her brow creasing in concern. "He's still in there. I'm not sure he's even alive."

"We _need_ him to be alive. The Knight-Commander has agreed to postpone the Rite of Annulment if we can bring the First Enchanter back before nightfall." Fiah took a cautious step inside, inspecting the haggard group.

"Wynne!" one of the other mages called. "This barrier won't hold for long."

The mage sighed, weariness evident in her drooping shoulders. "If you intend to seek Irving, I ask that you take me with you. The children will be safe if we can stop the demons."

Fiah nodded. "We'll need all the help we can get."

"Landon," Wynne called, "take the children and see if the templars will open the door. Leave the barrier. Get them to safety."

A sandy-haired mage turned from the barrier, shaking his head. "Are you joking? I'm coming with you, Wynne."

Wynne grumbled under her breath, but turned to Fiah. She shrugged. "All the help we can get," she repeated.

The elderly mage entrusted the children's safety with a different mage instead. She took on the force of the barrier along with Landon, giving the rest of the mages a chance to escape down the hall. "When we let this go," Wynne gasped, "be prepared." Fiah nodded, and the blue barrier disappeared.

Nothing happened.

"Well," Landon muttered, "that was less than exciting."

"I need to rest a moment." Wynne sat, leaning against one of the pillars. "Give me just a bit of time."

"Take all the time you need," Landon assured her. "You were badly hurt." He turned to Fiah and flashed her a tired smile. "Landon Amell. Pleased to meet you."

_Don't stare. Eye contact. Stop staring_. "Fiahrel," she breathed, returning his smile. "And this is Leliana." _Come on, Fiah. He's a _human_. An attractive human, but still. What's gotten into you? And stop staring!_

"Not to sound… distrustful, but why has Greagoir agreed to postpone the Rite?" Landon asked, breaking Fiah from her thoughts.

"We're Grey Wardens," she answered smoothly.

"Wardens?" His eyes grew wide. "We were told they were all killed at Ostagar."

Fiah gave him a wry grin. "Nope." Leaving it at that, she readied her bow and sauntered to the door where the barrier had been. "Are you ready, Wynne?" she called over her shoulder.

"Yes. Let's hurry."

* * *

The trek through the Circle tower was a nightmare. By the time the group had reached the second floor, they'd faced innumerable demons, and the fighting was beginning to take its toll on all of them.

They'd long since run out of lyrium potions, so Landon and Wynne constantly had to sit and rest after fights. Fiah was covered in bruises and minor burns, but she didn't want to waste health poultices or bother Wynne. Leliana, though, was taking the heaviest beating.

"Fiah, we have to stop." The rogue slumped to the ground, clutching her side. "If Wynne can't heal me, I have to rest."

"We're almost to the third floor," Landon pointed out, leaning heavily on his staff. "The three of us can clear out the rest of this floor, and we'll come back for you." He looked to Fiah, his blue eyes dull with fatigue.

She nodded. "Let's go." Readying an arrow, she led the way down the hall. There were two rooms to her right and the door to the stairs on her left. Steeling herself, she shoved the first door open with her shoulder.

Inside, there were three mages. Fiah began to lower her bow, but one of them shot a fireball at the group, knocking them off their feet. As soon as Fiah regained her composure, she shot the mage straight through his forehead. Landon had frozen the second mage, and he and Wynne were attacking the third. Fiah pulled her bowstring taut, aiming carefully. When she shot, the arrow exploded the ice and lodged into the mage's stomach. Dashing forward, Fiah tucked her bow away and grabbed her daggers, quickly ending the mage's life. She turned to the final mage, but he was stumbling to his knees, his robes aflame.

Panting, Wynne staggered to lean against the wall. "You and Landon may have to go ahead," she mustered. "I'm too old for this."

"Nonsense, Wynne," Fiah assured her. "We're all tired. If we're going to save the First Enchanter, we have to do it together." Her resolve wavered at the weariness on the healer's face, but Fiah didn't let it show. "Landon and I will check out the last room. But we _have_ to do this together." She looked over at the other mage, and he followed her out of the room.

The door to the final room was locked. Fiah cursed and slung her bow over her shoulder. She knelt down to pick the lock, but Landon placed a hand on her arm. "That's the First Enchanter's office," he informed her.

"So?"

"It's locked for a reason."

Fiah hid her annoyance behind a cocky smile. "Yeah, practice." Her shaking fingers made the process painfully slow, but she finally managed to open the door. Ignoring the nervous way Landon shifted his weight, she strode in and inspected the messy office. "It looks like this place was already ransacked." Fiah rummaged through the chests and drawers but found nothing of interest—until she came upon a locked chest. "Landon!" she called.

The mage peeked inside the office. "Yes?"

"What's in here?"

His eyes grew wide. "I don't know. And you shouldn't be going through all this."

"The noble defense of the mages was cute at first," Fiah muttered under her breath, "but now it's a bit annoying."

"What?"

"Nothing." Making quick work of the lock, Fiah lifted the heavy lid. To her disappointment, the chest was empty with the exception of a thick book. She inspected it, but found nothing special. Frowning, she settled on the floor and crossed her legs, determined to discover the book's importance. "Landon?" she called again.

"Yes?"

Fiah made her voice as sweet and innocent as possible. "Come here, please." She flipped through the thin pages, unable to understand or decipher the strange text.

"Maker," Landon grumbled. "You _had_ to open the chest?" He crossed his arms, peering down at Fiah with a combination of mild disgust and wary curiosity.

"What does any of this say?" she asked sweetly.

"I don't know," Landon admitted, sitting next to Fiah. He stared at the words for a minute, then shrugged. "I could guess, but it would be a foolish and unlikely guess."

"Try me."

He hesitated. "There was a rumor a few years ago that a templar got a hold of a grimoire from one of the Witches of the Wilds. This _could_ be it, but I doubt it."

Fiah pursed her lips. _This could be my chance to earn some favor with Morrigan. _"Don't doubt yourself." She happily shoved the book into her pack. "For what it's worth, I believe you."

"You're not even a mage," Landon pointed out, bewildered. "What in Andraste's name are you going to do with it?"

"Give it to a Witch of the Wilds."

He crossed his arms, unimpressed. "Really?"

"Yep." Standing, Fiah noticed how stiff her joints were. "Maybe we should rest here a while," she suggested. "I know we don't have much time, but we're no use to the mages if we're dead."

Landon nodded, his relief obvious. "I'll go get Wynne and Leliana."

Curious, Fiah sank back to the floor and pulled the grimoire back out, flipping through the pages. For some reason she wasn't quite sure of yet, she was determined to befriend Morrigan. Maybe it was because she was the only one in their little party who didn't annoy Fiah; sure, Morrigan was a bit rude, but she could stand on her own and didn't have an issue voicing her opinion, whereas Tanya's innocence and indecisiveness and Alistair's childishness and reluctance made Fiah want to smack them both.

The door to the First Enchanter's office opened, revealing the rest of the haggard group. Fiah ignored Wynne—she was grateful for the healing, but not so much for the life lessons—but smiled up at Leliana, whose company she was coming to enjoy. Turning her attention up to Landon, she held up the grimoire with a sweet smile.

He hesitated, but after a moment he joined Fiah and began studying the words intensely.

_You know, I could get used to this. The excitement is still too… exciting, but at the end of the day, this is better than being alone in the Alienage. _


	6. Nightmares

**A/N: **Yay! An early update! Actually, I decided to post this a day early because I'm about to be in the process of moving, and I won't have internet for a while, which means probably no more posts until next Saturday. :(

So, this is the last chapter in the Circle. I realized I probably could've expanded it and added lots of fun character development, but I basically just jumped and skipped around and squeezed it into a single can I say - I **hate** this part. But after this, we're back to an original storyline for a while!

Reviews always loved and welcomed!

* * *

Fiah hadn't noticed she'd fallen asleep until a dull _thud_ woke her.

Her eyes flew open and she twitched involuntarily. From beside her, Landon stirred in his sleep, the grimoire still in his hands. The two of them had continued studying the thick tome after the party had gathered in the First Enchanter's office.

Stifling a yawn, Fiah strained her ears, but she heard nothing else. Just as she thought she had imagined the noise, she heard Wynne ask softly, "It woke you, too?"

She looked up at the mage. "Yes. What was it?"

"I don't know," Wynne admitted. "It sounded like a door closing. But I think it's time we get moving again. I fear we've been resting too long."

Nodding in agreement, Fiah gently shook Landon awake. "Mmm," he groaned. "Five more minutes." The mage turned and the grimoire slipped from his hands.

"Come on," Fiah muttered. "Wake up, Landon. We have to go."

His eyes fluttered open and he stared at Fiah in confusion. "Oh, right," he managed after a few moments. Rubbing his forehead, Landon seemed to suddenly remember where he was. "Maker," he gasped. "The Rite. How long do you think it's been?"

"I don't know." Fiah grabbed the grimoire and put it in her pack. Wynne and Leliana were already waiting at the door, looking back expectantly. "Let's go." She stood and offered a hand to Landon, pulling him up after her.

They made their way up to the third floor, finding it infested with possessed templars. The two mages were quickly tired out by the templars' abilities. Fiah was afraid they wouldn't make it, but Landon assured her they were almost to the fourth floor.

Sure enough, after one last room of deranged templars, the group found the staircase to the next floor. Fiah led the way up, keeping her bow at the ready. When they emerged from the stairwell, Wynne and Landon gasped in unison.

Fiah followed the mages into a large room, covered in an unnatural, demonic essence. In the center of the room was a sloth demon, looming over a mage's corpse. Fiah was aware that the demon spoke, and knew that Wynne responded, but her mind couldn't comprehend the words. A wave of exhaustion clouded her, and she sank to the floor and slept.

* * *

Gently, Fiah ran her fingers along the edge of the Fade Pedestal. She allowed the Fade energy to weave through her, and when she opened her eyes the dream-realm had changed.

_Landon's nightmare._ She hadn't seen the mage, but she had a _feeling_, like a survival instinct, that told her she would find him here. Fiah had already been to the nightmares of Leliana and Wynne; the rogue had been able to free both of her companions from the complacency of the sloth demon.

Fiah found herself tugging at her ebony braid. Her own nightmare lingered in her mind. It had felt _wrong_ from the moment she had woken, but she hadn't been able to explain why. She had been among the Dalish, hunting with her father. It was the future she'd always imagined as a child, but had been forced to abandon upon her father's death. Seeing her father in his hunting gear, listening to his quiet lessons in archery, Fiah had almost given in to the sloth demon's power and stayed.

But it had felt _wrong_. Unnatural.

And to escape, she'd had to strike down her father.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to drive the unbidden tears away. _This doesn't make you a coward_, her mind consoled her. _You've been there once before. You saw your father die. That elf in the Fade wasn't your father. What you killed was but a shade in your mind, nothing more._

Shaking her head fiercely, Fiah grabbed her bow and set off down the path in front of her feet. When she found Landon, he was surrounded by a group of eager children.

"Just remember," he was saying, "fire is _extremely_ dangerous, so when—" Landon's head snapped up as Fiah approached. "This, students, is my friend, Fiah. She helped me save the Circle."

The rogue groaned. "I'm _not_ killing children. Please, Landon, look around you and tell me you can feel it."

His blue eyes narrowed. "Feel what?"

"Just think," she crooned. "How'd you get here? Where are you?"

"I… I'm in the Circle," Landon stammered hesitantly. "But I…" He let a string of curses loose. "The Fade. I should've known. I _just_ went through my Harrowing, too."

To Fiah's relief, the children didn't remain children; their forms twisted and writhed to form shades of demons. Between the flurry of her arrows and Landon's magic, they made quick work of the nightmare.

"So," Fiah asked casually once she'd caught her breath. "Do you always dream of small children?"

"Shut up," Landon growled. "You don't know what it's like in the Circle. Children don't get the nurturing and care that they should." He looked away, his eyes dark. "We have to grow up too fast. I want to change that."

"I sense a story." She was careful to keep her voice serious enough that he might be willing to tell her, but light enough that he could brush it off.

He chose to brush it off, simply saying, "There's a story behind everything."

There was a sudden ferocity in his eyes that reminded Fiah of her own tumultuous past, and she felt an overwhelming desire to push further. "You can tell me, you know."

"Maybe one day I will," he promised. "For now, let's just get out of here."

She nodded in agreement, making her way to the Fade Pedestal. As soon as she touched it, Landon's form faded and disappeared. _Well, I didn't come this all this way for nothing_. Fiah felt the Fade wrap itself around her mind, pulling her in towards the sloth demon's lair.

* * *

"So this… Litany," Fiah mumbled, unimpressed, "will protect us against blood magic?"

"Yes. We should hurry," Wynne urged, tapping her fingers impatiently along her staff. "We have no idea how long we were in the Fade. It could be too late."

Beckoning for her group to follow, Fiah headed out of the main chamber that they had awoken in. After their chilling slumber in the Fade, the group felt oddly refreshed, though they were all on edge. Fiah's arms and shoulders had lost the familiar ache that followed the heavy use of her bow, and her feet weren't quite as heavy. Wynne and Landon seemed especially rested, giving Fiah an extra boost of confidence.

That confidence wavered as she rounded the corner. Huddled at the back of the small room was the templar she'd met earlier. His shaking form was blurred by a transparent veil of magic.

"Cullen?" Fiah called softly, hoping she had remembered the right name.

"Away!" he cried, standing and waving his hands towards the group. "Demons, ghosts, apparitions… Leave me in peace!"

Planting her hands on her hips, Fiah pursed her lips and waited for the templar to come to his senses. He continued wailing, and she scoffed. "Cullen! We're real. We're here. We're not demons."

"Begone!" he demanded, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opened them, he stumbled backwards in confusion. "That… that always works." Cullen's voice broke. "You… you're really here, then? Oh, Maker." The templar collapsed to his knees and choked out an explanation. "The Knight-Commander wanted to send me to the Chantry. I couldn't. I wanted to give you a chance. So I followed you, but I didn't find you. I found _him_."

"Uldred?" Wynne ventured, her voice kind. "Is that who you found, Cullen?"

He nodded. "Blood magic. They're dead. All of them. Except the mages," he whispered. "He's using them."

"Is Irving up there?"

"Yes." Cullen's voice turned hard. "He must be killed. They must _all _pay for this!"

Landon grunted in disapproval. "Not all the mages are guilty," he muttered under his breath, his words meant for Fiah alone. "You can't kill them all for the acts of a few."

"I won't," Fiah promised him. She turned back to Cullen. "We'll do what we can to free you. The mages will be taken to the Knight-Commander. It isn't my choice to make."

The templar looked like he wanted to argue, but remained silent.

Fiah looked back at her group and grinned, hiding her worries and her nightmare and her distaste for the excitement behind the cunning curl of her lips. "Come on. Let's go kick some blood mage ass."

* * *

"We _can't _trust them!"

"Quite, Cullen." The Knight-Commander turned back to Fiah. "Your opinion?"

"Uldred was the one responsible. We were able to stop him by using the Litany, and the mages we left alive are the ones who were fighting against him. I don't think any of them are guilty of anything beyond being in the wrong place at the wrong time." Fiah sighed and rubbed her eyes, desperately needing to rest. The fight with the blood mages had drained all of them, and the bickering downstairs wasn't helping their moods.

"If I may, Greagoir," the First Enchanter spoke up. "I will take responsibility for this…" He gestured towards the rest of the tower. "This atrocity. Right now, I ask that we focus on the healing of the Circle."

The Knight-Commander nodded. "Very well."

Fiah was so relieved with the compromise that she nearly sank to the floor, but the papers in her hand reminded her that she wasn't quite finished. "There's still the issue of the Blight."

"The mages are in no shape to battle a Blight," Irving admitted, his voice rough with exhaustion, "but when the time comes, we will be ready. In exchange for saving the Circle and sparing the lives of the innocent, I offer you our assistance the moment we can give it."

"Thank you," Fiah breathed, gripping the treaty like a lifeline. "Now, if you don't mind, we're going to make camp. Come on, Leliana."

Landon grabbed her arm. "Um, Fiah, Irving, I have a request. Wynne and I…" He looked to the elder mage, then to the First Enchanter. "We've done what we can for the Circle. It will heal without us. We'd like permission to travel with the Grey Wardens, if they'll accept our company."

"Yes." The word came out too quickly, and Fiah winced inwardly. "We need help," she added as an afterthought, "and they've proven themselves." Irving nodded, though he seemed hesitant. "Well, then. Let's make camp," Fiah repeated. "I'm not spending another minute in this hellish place." Her strength momentarily renewed at the thought of open skies and—most importantly—sleep, she pushed past the templars and strode out the door.

The four companions took the boat back to shore and set up camp once they were out of sight from the tower and the inn on the shore.

"I've a question for you, Fiah," Landon remarked as he fumbled with his tent. "Why not stay at the inn? It's not like we don't have the coin. Those relics you stole—and then sold back to their rightful owners—brought a hefty sum."

The rogue slipped off her gloves and tossed them onto the grass in front of her own tent before going to help the mage with his. "I hate being inside," she admitted. "I like the sky and the stars." When the tent was secure, she gave Landon a wry smirk and added, "And those relics? Think of it this way: I _saved_ them."

"And profited." Wynne's voice rose from the other side of the fire pit. "I'm grateful they were returned to the Circle, but don't pretend it was an act of charity."

"I'm not, and it wasn't." Fiah took a seat near the fire, waiting patiently for Leliana to serve the food. When she was handed a bowl, Fiah held it up to her nose and inhaled the steam. "This is one of those Orlesian soups you talked about, isn't it?"

Leliana smiled, filling two bowls and handing them to the mages. "You said you didn't want to hunt, and it's my turn to cook." With an innocent shrug, she added, "Is it so bad to miss home?"

"I suppose not." She sat in silence after that, her mind once again filled with thoughts of her nightmare from the Fade. "I'm not hungry," Fiah announced suddenly, leaving her bowl on the ground and slipping into her tent. As she curled up, she did her best to drown out the memories of her father.

_Promise me, Fiahrel. No matter what happens, promise me you'll do this. Just remember, my dear Fiah, I'll always love you. _

His gentle words turned to screams, then silence.

* * *

**A/N: **This might not be totally clear, but the _thud_ that they hear at the beginning is supposed to be Cullen going up to the next level while he'd looking for them. Not a big deal, but it annoyed me that I never made that clear, and I'm honestly just too lazy to try and fix it.


	7. Honesty

**A/N: **Yay! I'm back! And with internet!

So this chapter is full of stuff. Lots goes on. I tried to give Fiah a bit of introspection/brooding, but it just doesn't work.

Also, instead of just doing background one-shots (like _A Pup Treading Underfoot_) I've decided to do one-shots of a bunch of things not covered in here. I wasn't going to originally, until I got this great idea for Alistair's rose and realized Fiah won't see it, therefor I won't write it.

And we all know that can't happen.

So, if you have any requests, let me know and I'll try and get to it! Kielle's background one-shot will be up after Wednesday's post!

* * *

_You have to do this, Fiahrel. Promise me you will. _

The soft pleading of her father's voice woke Fiah. She sat up slowly in her tent, pushing stray hairs out of her face and wiping the cold sweat from her forehead. Hot tears threatened to spill from her eyes. The rogue pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them tightly.

_Promise me, Fiahrel._

It had been so long since she'd had a nightmare that she had forgotten how terrible they were—how real the pain was and how clear her father's voice rang in her ears. The tent seemed suddenly too small, like it threatened to suffocate Fiah. Her heart raced and she scrambled outside, needing fresh air to alleviate the pressure on her chest. As she stumbled to her feet, a quiet voice called out to her.

"Can't sleep either?"

Fiah rubbed her eyes, trying to focus. Landon was sitting on a log in front of the fire pit, staring intently at the flames. The shadows and light flickered over his face, casting a sinister glow in his blue eyes.

"It's the Fade, isn't it?" he asked, his voice heavy.

Silently, Fiah nodded and sat next to him.

"Can I ask you something?" Landon ventured hesitantly. "About the Fade?"

"You can ask, but that doesn't mean I'll answer," she told him truthfully, staring down at her bare feet.

It took the mage a few moments to continue. "When I was talking to Leliana earlier, she mentioned that you saw all of our nightmares. You saw what… what we want and what we fear." He took a deep breath and straightened. Fiah could feel his gaze on her, but she kept looking down. "What was your nightmare?"

"I saw my father." The words came unbidden; Fiah was surprised, but what truly shocked her was the relief that came with it. "We were with the Dalish, and we were hunting." She looked up at Landon, meeting his gaze. Smiling sadly, she studied his face for a moment, wondering what he thought about her experience in the Fade.

"Why?" he muttered, half to himself. "Why your father?"

The elf looked away, biting her lip.

"You need to talk about it." Landon's words weren't harsh or forceful, but a simple stated fact—an invitation, exactly as Fiah had given him in the Fade.

"I know."

Slowly, Landon took one of her hands. Fiah looked up at him in surprise and he smiled at her softly. "You know what else Leliana told me?"

Fiah couldn't help but snicker. "That she's a terrible gossip?"

"She used to be a bard," Landon grinned. "What did you expect? Anyway, she said that she thinks you put a terrible amount of trust in people."

"You disagree," Fiah guessed, a heaviness settling over the air again.

"I do. I think there's a lot in you that you don't trust us with."

Sighing, Fiah admitted, "You're right. I don't trust any of you near as much as Leliana gives me credit for. I asked her to travel with me because I needed help." Her head hung in shame, and her words were whispers. "I was a coward."

Landon squeezed her hand lightly. "I don't see a coward. I see a Grey Warden who saved the Circle of Ferelden."

The fire crackled as the two sat in silence. Fiah cleared her throat, already regretting what she was about to say. "I'm not actually a Grey Warden." Before Landon could protest, she added, "But I did tell the truth to Irving and Greagoir about gaining support against the Blight. There are two Wardens in the Brecilian Forest right now, negotiating with the Dalish. They sent me to the Circle."

At a loss for words, the mage simply looked at Fiah. His eyes held the same conflicted emotions that Fiah had noticed in the Circle – a bit of disgust mixed with a bit of curiosity. This time, though, she thought there was a bit of admiration.

"I'm… I'm going to try and get some sleep," Fiah decided, not wanting to spill any more secrets. But despite her words, she remained seated, staring at her and Landon's intertwined fingers.

"Good idea. We have a lot of walking to do before we reach Redcliffe." Landon stood, pulling Fiah with him.

Feeling a blush rise to her cheeks, Fiah pulled away and headed for her tent. She curled up, hoping sleep would find her, but behind her tired eyes there was always a reminder of her father. Fiah gave up once the soft light of the sun illuminated her tent; it wasn't long before she could hear rustling and low conversations coming from the camp, so she headed back outside.

"Fiah," Leliana greeted her warmly, holding out a piece of bread topped with cheese. "I've prepared a quick breakfast for us, so we can make our way to Redcliffe soon."

"Thank you, Leliana, but I'm not hungry." Fiah wrapped her arms around herself, shivering from her nightmares.

The bard regarded her with friendly concern. "You did not sleep well." Fiah shook her head. "I can see. There are circles under your eyes." Leliana leaned forward, tracing the delicate skin beneath Fiah's eyes.

Her touch startled Fiah, and she leaned back instinctively.

"I'm sorry," Leliana apologized, turning back to the breakfast she had been preparing. "I'm just worried about you," she explained.

"I know. Thank you." Fiah hugged herself tighter, wishing to be back on the road and away from painful conversation.

* * *

The walk to Redcliffe was a quiet one.

Though neither of them admitted it, Wynne and Landon were both obviously still exhausted from the Circle. Fiah's back and shoulders were sore from all the shooting she did, but Leliana seemed no worse for wear.

The bard cheerily led the group towards Redcliffe, occasionally telling a story of the great heroes of Orlais or softly singing a song about star-crossed lovers. There was a little spring in Leliana's step, but she seemed well aware of the rest of the group's weariness.

"Shall we stop for lunch?" she asked a little after midday, pointing to a quiet patch of grass near the road. The mages agreed with more enthusiasm than they'd shown all day, but Fiah remained silent.

Once again, she didn't take any food for herself. Wynne joined her, but Fiah ignored the mage's concerns. When they continued walking, Fiah often found herself trailing further and further behind the group. It wasn't intentional; she was simply too far lost in her thoughts to focus on keeping up.

Around the same time that the village of Redcliffe came into view, Landon dropped back to walk beside Fiah. "You're quiet," he remarked lightly.

"I'm thinking." Fiah did her best not to look at him, keeping her eyes fixed on the dirt in front of her.

"Thoughts don't keep you fed," Landon pointed out. Fiah's head snapped up and she stared at him for a moment, wondering what he was getting at. With a worried smile, he added, "They don't keep you rested, either."

"I can't stop," she admitted. Biting her lip, Fiah considered continuing her unusual trend of honesty. _You already told him about Father. Sort of. Is there anything left to lose?_ Remembering the startling relief that came with her admission that morning, she took a deep breath and let the uncertain words tumble out. "It's just… in the Fade, I saw something I wanted so badly. Something I've always dreamed of. And my father, he… he taught me that everyone has their place, and that ours wasn't in the city. We were going to run away to be with the Dalish, and then—" Fiah stopped as abruptly as she had began, her breath catching in her chest.

Landon remained quiet for a moment, as if waiting for Fiah to continue. "Why'd you join with the Wardens?"

Fiah wasn't sure whether he thought the two topics were related or if he was changing the subject. Or, she supposed, he could merely be curious. Either way, she was hesitant to answer. "It was an accident," she finally admitted. "I found their camp in the forest, and when I found out they were going to the Dalish, I asked to travel with them."

"Yet you didn't stay with the Dalish."

"I… couldn't." The rogue tugged on the end of her ebony braid, unable to decipher the curious look on Landon's face. "There was someone there that I had let down in the past. I couldn't face her." Frowning, she added softly, "I ran away again."

_Maker, look at you! You've let a dream get you depressed, and you're scaring yourself with thoughts of Kielle. Well, Serah Tabris may be able to scowl you to death, but you're traveling with the Grey Wardens. You're going to save the world. Now snap out of it!_

Fiah chuckled to herself. Landon looked up, confused, but she shook her head. "Doom-and-gloom doesn't fit me very well," she forced out a grin, trying to lighten the mood. "Long story short, my father died when I was young, and I've taken to hunting and petty thievery to survive. It's not a past I'm proud of," she shrugged, "but it's all I've got. I don't normally like all this excitement, but it's my way of making up for… everything, I guess."

"So you'll be eating again?"

"Yes, I'll be eating," Fiah assured him. "You don't have to worry over me, you know."

Landon smiled and admitted, "I do, actually. I actually _have _to. It comes from having Wynne as a mentor for so many years. I have no say in the matter."

"All those years in the Circle," Fiah teased, "and all you learned is how to babysit?" Landon offered only an innocent shrug and laugh in return, but Fiah had successfully diffused the tension and gotten both of their minds off of her nightmares.

_The rogue is back. If Kielle ever shows back up, the rogue will put laxatives in her rations and run away laughing, because Kielle deserves it and the rogue likes not having to come to terms with her past._

_It's more fun this way._

With a triumphant little smirk, Fiah hurried to catch up with Leliana. "Well, my dear," she smiled, "we're almost at Redcliffe, and that means setting up camp."

"You are feeling better," Leliana noted. "But there's an inn at the village. Why would we make camp?"

"Stars," Fiah replied. "I like the stars. Besides, the inn's expensive. We'll just have to go into town each day to check if the Wardens have arrived. Once they get here—" She stopped, not sure what came next. "Once they get here, we'll ask them what to do, I suppose."

"Do you really think they'll let me join them?"

Fiah shrugged. "I helped stop a blood mage incursion and got a little mage army for them. They owe me a favor or six." Finding a relatively flat patch of grass, Fiah decided it was a good place to set up camp. "Who's going to go check for Wardens?"

_Not the rogue. The rogue will be hunting for food. _

Nobody answered.

"Anyone?"

"Once we get camp set up and I've rested a bit, I'll go," Wynne offered.

"Good." Fiah set down her pack and readjusted her quiver. "Now, if you three will set up camp, I'll go find dinner."

* * *

"I don't want your damn business."

"Alright, then." Fiah leaned up against the doorframe and sighed. It had been over a week since they'd been in Redcliffe and there was _still_ no sign of the Wardens. Worse, the village was apparently under attack every night and the blacksmith wasn't making anymore arrows. Supposedly it was to spite the mayor, but Fiah just knew it was a terrible inconvenience.

As she turned to leave, a familiar voice rose up from the village center. "And you're _positive_ he won't repair anything? Anything at all?"

"Alistair?" Fiah made her way over to where the templar was talking with the mayor. "When did you get here?"

He turned, his surprise evident. "Early this morning. Everyone else is up at the inn." He looked away for a moment, almost guiltily, and asked, "So, the Circle, and the treaty… It went alright?"

Nodding, Fiah dug in her pack and pulled out the treaty. "I mean, there was just this whole blood mage thing, where abominations tried to take over the tower and some enchanter was sacrificing other mages, but…" She shrugged, flashing a little grin. "Other than that, smooth as butter."

"Oh, good," Alistair sighed, obviously relieved.

"The Dalish went well?"

Alistair looked away again, chuckling awkwardly.

Fiah cocked her head curiously. "Don't tell me abominations invaded there, too," she joked, not sure why the Warden seemed so hesitant.

"Umm, werewolves, actually. It's a long story," he mumbled. "It's just… Well, we met one of your, uh, friends."

"Friends?" Fiah froze.

From behind her, a voice called out her name like a challenge. Fiah knew without looking that the snarl was probably accompanied by a lethal sneer and a blond ponytail.

_The rogue is screwed._


	8. Reunions

**A/N: **Yay! This chapter is pretty exciting, and I'll tell you why: it means we're one chapter closer to Landon's background story! xD

His story is my absolute favorite, but it contains a major spoiler, so I'll be posting it with Saturday's chapter.

Other than that, our parties are reunited and there's about to be _lots _of explanations. Also, I managed not to include Isolde in this one. Nobody likes Isolde.

As always, I'd love a review with your lovely thoughts/criticisms/suggestions! I'm also taking suggestions for one-shots relating to scenes in this story!

* * *

Even unarmed and in casual attire, Kielle Tabris was a very frightening woman.

Driven by fear and the will to survive, Fiah sprinted away from the town center, up the hill to where the camp was. She could hear Alistair's heavy footsteps, but didn't turn to see if Kielle was following. As the campsite came into view, Fiah pushed harder, digging her toes into the red earth and pumping her arms.

She reached the camp and barreled straight into Landon as he emerged from his tent. "What in the Maker's name?" he cried as they tumbled to the ground.

"I'm dead," Fiah explained breathlessly. "Dear, sweet Andraste… She's going to kill me." The rogue looked up to see Kielle charge into their camp. Cringing, she curled up and leaned into Landon, wishing Kielle would just disappear.

_Hello? Andraste? I'm really sorry for wanting to put laxatives into Kielle's rations. So… we're good, right? Could you maybe, I don't know, make her really nice for just a few minutes? So I don't, you know, die or anything? I'd _really_ appreciate it._

When Fiah had mustered the courage to open her eyes, she realized two very pleasant things: One, she was still alive, thanks to the fact that Alistair was holding Kielle back. Two, she was curled up in Landon's lap, and instead of pushing her away, he had his arms wrapped protectively around her.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Kielle snarled. "You should be _dead_."

"Surprise!" Emboldened by the fact that Leliana had drawn her daggers at Kielle's words, Fiah added, "Did you miss me?"

Kielle growled something unintelligible and lunged for Fiah, almost breaking free from Alistair.

"Please explain what's going on here," Landon sighed, seemingly unfazed by the fact that Kielle was in the middle of trying to kill Fiah.

"Nothing to worry your little head over," she assured him, untangling herself from him and standing to face Kielle. "Look. I made a mistake back at the Alienage. I know that. But now I'm working with the Grey Wardens, and—"

"Oh, don't tell me your guilt made you humble?" Kielle sneered, her green eyes bright with ferocity. "You're entirely selfless, now? Want to save the whole world?"

"Well, I—"

"Bullshit!" With one last sharp movement, Kielle freed herself from Alistair and leapt towards Fiah. She froze halfway, an odd look crossing her face.

A sharp laugh came from behind Alistair. Morrigan sauntered into the camp, her hands stretched in front of her. "There's only one elf who hasn't tried killing me yet. 'Twould truly be a shame if she were to die," she crooned.

"You weren't lying when you said you'd give the grimoire to a Witch of the Wilds," Landon whispered.

"I know. It's surprising how often I've told the truth, lately." Fiah shrugged and turned to Morrigan. "Thank you for saving my life, and I'm truly sorry she tried to kill you. Don't take it personally—she does that to everyone."

"Fiah?" Tanya jogged up the path to the camp, her eyes wide with confusion. "What's going on?"

Alistair chuckled. "You're a bit late to the party, it seems."

"What did I miss, exactly?"

Kielle lurched forward suddenly, collapsing to her knees. "Now," Morrigan purred, "if everyone behaves, no one else will have to be paralyzed." Turning to Tanya, she added, "You missed nothing, Warden." The Witch stalked off, heading back towards the town.

Fiah massaged her temples and sighed. It was time, she supposed, for explanations. "Tanya, I need to talk to you and Alistair." She motioned for the two Wardens to follow her, leading them out of earshot of the rest of the camp. "I don't know what Kielle told you, but it probably isn't far from the truth. I left her and two others to die at the Alienage. It was a mistake, I know, but that's in the past, and I'm far from the same person I was then. _That_ Fiah would've left the mages to die back at the Circle." She took a deep breath before she continued. "When you asked me about my life in the Alienage, I said I was a hunter. That's true. My father taught me, and we were going to run away and join the Dalish, but then he died. I hunted for my food and stole the rest. When I said I'd join with you, I wasn't entirely telling the truth, either. I was just trying to run away from what happened with Kielle, and part of me thought saving Ferelden from the Blight would help make up for it, but it won't. I've already faced Kielle, and it's time for me to go back to the Alienage and face Shianni and Soris." She looked up at Tanya and Alistair, hoping they'd let her leave without _too_ much of a lecture.

"I… I haven't been entirely truthful, either," Tanya admitted, staring down at her feet. She dug the toe of her boot into the ground, kicking the red dirt around. "When I said that I was from Highever, I was telling the truth, but… I'm Tanya Cousland."

Alistair looked like he'd had cold water splashed at him, but Fiah just shrugged.

"The daughter of the teryn of Highever," Tanya explained, her voice small and timid.

_The rogue feels significantly less terrible about lying. Some things should be public knowledge, like if you're in line for the throne. That's fairly important._

"Well," Alistair breathed, his eyes wide. "As long as we're making weighty admissions about our past," he paused, then his next words came out in a rush. "I'm the son of King Maric."

That name, Fiah recognized.

* * *

"You're _positive_ that's what he said?"

"Yep." Fiah nodded fervently, leaning back against the tree trunk behind her. A part of her mind nagged at her, reminding her that they were supposed to be on guard. "His mother was a servant girl, his father was the king. It's not exactly _original_, but Tanya seemed to believe him."

Landon contemplated this for a moment before asking, "So, if Tanya believes him, you do, too?"

"Are you saying he's lying?"

"I don't know. I wasn't there." The mage shrugged and added, "You know, of all the things I thought would happen once I passed my Harrowing, I never imagined it would include…" He paused, then gestured back towards their camp. "…this."

It was Fiah's turn to shrug. She glanced up at the sky, the absence of stars making her uneasy. Landon's presence made her less uncomfortable; the two of them had somehow formed a habit over the past week of sitting at the edge of camp, facing Lake Calenhad, and talking. Since neither of them found much more than nightmares in their sleep, their talks sometimes lasted well into the night. With a sigh, Fiah realized this wasn't one of those nights. "So, what _did_ you think would happen at the Circle? It seems so boring."

"It is," Landon chuckled. "Lots of research, and training, and running errands for the senior enchanters. Well, that's how it is for apprentices, at least. I was only a true mage for about a week, then Uldred attacked."

Before Fiah could answer, Morrigan called out to them. "The Wardens say the bulk of the creatures is gone." Her golden eyes seemed to shine through the foggy darkness. "They want us to help finish off the reinforcements by the docks."

With a groan, Fiah pulled herself to her feet and stretched her stiff limbs. As soon as the mayor was aware that Grey Wardens were in Redcliffe, he'd asked for their help against the mysterious creatures that had been attacking the town. These were, apparently, the same creatures that led to the blacksmith being drunk and unwilling to make Fiah any more arrows. His daughter was involved, somehow, but Fiah hadn't been completely listening when Tanya had explained the situation. All she really knew was that the angry blacksmith had _finally _made her some arrows.

Fiah and the two mages jogged down to the docks, where a small group of soldiers were fighting the skeletal creatures. Tanya, Alistair, Wynne, and Kielle were also among them.

_The rogue doesn't understand the logic in living-dead things, but it's something to kill and she's been bored. _

Standing up on a hill, out of the creatures' reach, Fiah nocked an arrow and aimed it for a creature that was well away from the group. It crumpled as soon as the arrow made contact with its skull. She had to wait a moment to shoot again, because she was afraid that she would accidently hit one of her allies if she shot into the chaos that had become the center of town.

Fiah kept shooting and the skeletal creatures kept appearing. Just as she began to fear her tired arms would fall off, there was a lull in the creatures' advance. She shook her right arm out, trying to loosen it up for the next round of skeleton creatures, but they never came.

"I'm going to go find Leliana," Fiah decided, turning to Landon. "Let Tanya know I'll be back soon." Without waiting for an answer, the rogue jogged down the hill to the Chantry. The brisk movement eased the cramps out of her legs from standing in one place for so long, and soon Fiah was feeling as good as ever.

_The rogue knows that it's only a matter of time before the sleep-deprivation hits. That's the worst. Worse than being drunk, because other people can tell when you're drunk. Nobody ever expects sleep-deprivation_.

She found Leliana in the corner of the Chantry, sitting cross-legged in a group of pale-faced children, reciting Orlesian fairytales. "Come on, Leliana," Fiah smiled down at her. "It's all over." It took a few minutes, but she finally pried Leliana away from her adoring crowd.

"Have you spoken to the Wardens?" the bard asked once they were back outside. The sun had just begun to peek over the horizon, and Fiah could make out a slight crease of worry on Leliana's face. "I'm sure you haven't. I wish I could've helped, during the fight."

Shrugging, Fiah grinned, "No need. Tanya was taking the creatures five at a time. It was a marvelous sight, really."

"Oh, I'm certain," Leliana laughed lightly. "They are as big as she is."

"Bigger, actually."

Tanya, leaning against a building near the docks, raised a curious eyebrow. "Are you making fun of me, Fiah?"

"I wouldn't dream of it," she insisted. "I was just telling Leliana about your fighting skills."

The Warden's cheeks flushed with color. "I didn't want Wynne getting hurt. She's a fabulous healer, and a wonderful conversation partner."

"Fiah has a point, you know," Alistair called, joining them. "You don't have to be everywhere, all the time. Especially when it's _me_ who has to drag those skeleton things off of you."

"So I fought terribly," Tanya sighed, exasperated. "It's over, nobody got hurt, and we have more important things to talk about." She looked pointedly at Leliana.

Glancing back at where the camp was, Fiah decided she didn't need to be present for this particular conversation. "Look, I say keep her, but that's just me. I'll leave you to talk." She made her way back up to the hill, glad that Landon was the only one in the camp.

_The rogue decides that Landon is a pain in the ass. She tells the truth far too often when he's around._

"Fiah," he greeted her warmly. "Do we have any plans yet?"

"Same as they were earlier. Get in the castle, bring the arl out alive." Smiling, Fiah sat near the fire pit, groaning as her tired body protested.

Landon set down the bedroll he'd been packing up and sat next to her. "Who's going? Both of the Wardens, I assume?"

Fiah sighed. They'd discussed it before the fight, and it wasn't a plan she was entirely happy with. "Both Wardens. They also want me to come, and Wynne. But she's probably tired, and Morrigan isn't the best healer, so you'll probably come too."

"That's it?"

"Bann Teagan seems to think we can sneak into the castle, so we're limiting the number we take," she shrugged. "What I actually wanted to talk to you about, though, was that I'm planning on leaving," Fiah admitted, turning her eyes to the fire pit, tracing the thin whisp of smoke with her blue gaze. "I figured you deserved an explanation. I already spoke to Leliana when I told her to go the Chantry before the battle last night, but…"

To her surprise—and disappointment—Landon didn't argue. He simply asked, "Where are you going?"

"Back to the Alienage." Fiah couldn't quite bring herself to say _home_; that's not what the Alienage was to her anymore. "I have some…apologies to make."

"Well," Landon smiled, "I hope you know you owe _me_ an apology for leaving. But first, let's go castle-storming."

* * *

"So, what's the deal?" Fiah whispered, tugging on Landon's robe sleeve. "I missed that whole conversation."

"You missed—What? How did you miss that?" The mage shook his head. "Never mind. Basically, a demon's responsible for everything, according to the arl's wife."

"Convenient." She followed Landon closely, feeling claustrophobic in the grimy cellar of the arl's estate. Teagan's idea had seemed like a good one at first, but now Fiah decided it was a better idea to just storm the castle gates.

_Fewer cobwebs there. Maker, does this arl even realize there are _corpses_ down here? Rather unsanitary, if you ask me._

"Who's there?"

From in front of Fiah and Landon, Tanya came to an abrupt stop, searching for the voice.

"Who are you?"

Fiah was close enough to Landon to see him tense up. Before anyone realized what was happening, the mage had rushed forward to one of the cells that lined the hallway. Fiah ran after him, not believing what she was seeing. Landon, normally calm and collected, had grabbed a lanky prisoner from inside of the cell, pulling the collar of the prisoner's tattered robe to the edge of the bars.

The prisoner held onto the prison bars like a lifeline, but he didn't call for help or even resist at all. His eyes were wide with fear beneath his scruffy raven-black hair.

Landon scowled at him, but after a moment, he let go of the prisoner's robe. "Fiah," he mumbled, his voice strained, "I owe you an explanation."


	9. Stories

**A/N: **Here it is! We finish Redcliffe castle with this chapter, and we go back to the original story line in the next chapter.

Also, since Landon has his big reveal, I'm posting his background one-shot, titled "Secrets of a Sinister Nature" that you should definitely check out, because it's been my favorite piece to write so far!

As always, I'd always love a review with your comments/criticism/suggestions!

* * *

"I'm a blood mage."

"Okay." Fiah shrugged.

"So is Jowan."

"Okay." Another shrug.

Landon's brow creased. "And you know what that means, right?" Rolling up the sleeve of his robe, he held out his arm to display a row of neat, pale scars lining his forearm. "Blood mage," he repeated. "Maleficar. If the Chantry ever found out…"

A third shrug.

"Maker! Do you even—" Groaning in frustration, Landon tugged his sleeve back into place and took a deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet. "Jowan used blood magic to escape the Circle. He killed templars, Fiah, _killed_ them, with blood magic. I helped him escape. We destroyed his phylactery. The phylacteries are well-guarded, and the only way to reach them was by using blood magic. Otherwise, we wouldn't have been powerful enough to get into the phylactery room."

Fiah began to shrug again, but quickly stifled the movement. "I don't care," she admitted truthfully. "Magic is magic, as far as I'm concerned. It all scares the shit out of me, to be honest. I mean, who else has the power to set someone on fire whenever they feel like it?" She remembered the templars taking away a young elf, once, but it had been a long time ago. The elf was an orphan who accidently set fire to the orphanage when she was throwing a temper tantrum.

"And you don't care that it's an illegal form of magic that could get us both in a _lot_ of trouble?"

"No," she scoffed, leaning against the dusty stone wall. She peered around the corner curiously, and saw that the Wardens were deep in conversation with the other mage. "You know him, then? Jowan?"

Landon hesitated. "Yes. He came to the Circle just a few weeks before me. We were six years old," he laughed softly to himself. "We always got into some sort of trouble, but nothing bad enough that the templars ever did anything worse than tell Irving about it. And then, two years later, little Kya came along."

"Kya?"

His blue gaze turned to the grimy floor. "Kya. She was an elf," he remarked, looking back up at Fiah. "Kya Surana. She was a tiny thing, always wearing robes that were too big for her. The First Enchanter really took a liking to her. Everyone did, actually." He paused for a moment, and Fiah could sense a tinge of something—Regret? Longing? Both? "She was a year younger than Jowan and me, and when she first came to the Circle, she had this miserable habit of getting lost. More than once, she'd peek her head into the dormitory, long after dinner, and she'd give us this sad look, and we'd know she'd missed the meal. We started sneaking into the pantry to get food for her at night, and one day, a templar caught us."

Fiah waited patiently for him to continue, noticing the way he suddenly tensed and frowned.

"He yelled at us. We were eight years old—Well, Jowan was nine, I think—and we were so scared." Landon paused again, and Fiah fought the sudden urge to take him in her arms and comfort him. "We knew the stories about what happened to apprentices caught after curfew—especially apprentices caught somewhere _off-limits_ after curfew. We were so scared, and then… it happened." His words were rushed now. "We killed him with blood magic. We told Kya, and Jowan wanted to practice with it, and we did, but then there were rumors, and I stopped, but Jowan never did, and then—" He stopped abruptly, taking a shaky breath. "And then he was gone. Then Uldred rose up, and… Kya was gone, too."

Overwhelmed by the silent pain in his eyes—a pain that Fiah knew all too well—she reached out and took one of his hands in hers. He didn't respond to her touch, merely closing his eyes. With a little start, Fiah realized something rather uncharacteristic – she felt a genuine need to do her best to comfort Landon. She pulled her hand from his and slid her arms around him, holding him close. "I'm sorry," she whispered, relaxing as his arms wrapped around her. "I know what it's like. Losing someone, I mean." Briefly, she considered spilling into a tearful account of her father's death, but Fiah wasn't _quite_ comfortable enough with Landon for that, so for now, it remained her secret.

Her father's voice came unbidden at her thoughts of him. _Please, Fiahrel,_ he begged, _promise me you'll do this. Just remember, my dear Fiah, I'll always love you_. Her chest heaved with the sudden effort of breathing, and she buried her face in Landon's robes. They remained like that for a moment, and then—

_Maker, did he just _kiss _me? _Fiah did her best not to reveal her surprise and Landon's lips lingered in her hair. Curiously, she tilted her face up to look at him, noting the serenity and contentment in his deep blue eyes. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he pulled away, but not before lightly kissing her forehead.

He whispered a soft "Thank you" before turning to join the Wardens. Fiah watched him leave, feeling utterly confounded. As hard as she was trying, she couldn't sort out the emotion clouding her mind; it wasn't quite like happiness, and was much more than contentment. It was just _good_. She felt good.

Just an all-around, warm, good feeling.

_The rogue likes feeling good. A lot. The rogue… Dammit! The rogue can't form coherent thoughts. _

Fiah blinked quickly a few times and shook her head roughly, trying to force herself to think straight. _Blood mage. Bad. Jowan. Rescue the arl. Right – Let's go._ She took a deep, steadying breath and joined the trio huddled around the cell. "So, what are we going to do with him?" Fiah asked cheerily.

"He's staying here." Tanya's voice was decisive. "He's the arl's prisoner, not ours." With that, she turned and began walking down the hall to the other exit. "Come on. We've got work to do."

* * *

"I will do it. I will sacrifice my life."

Fiah rolled her eyes. She hadn't ever been the self-sacrificing type, and people who were tended to grate on her nerves. Isolde was certainly no exception. While Fiah understood that Connor was innocent, his mother didn't need to die. After all, their little group hadn't battled an entire castle full of reanimated skeletons just to see this woman die.

Thankfully, Alistair seemed to have a similar train of thought."Lady Isolde, I can't let you do that."

"You can't kill my son!" the woman screeched, tears beginning to roll down her face as she collapsed to her knees.

"Is there any other way?" Alistair turned back to Landon.

The mage shrugged. "With enough lyrium and willing mages, I suppose. But blood magic is undoubtedly the quickest way, short of killing the child. Which," he added hastily, "I'm _not_ in favor of."

"So, Connor willingly harbors a demon, which he summoned to save his father, who was poisoned by the blood mage we'd be getting help from," Fiah frowned. She didn't like Landon's logic, but she was willing to trust that Jowan would stay true to his word and help fix the mess he'd created. "If I hadn't seen the state of the Circle for myself, I'd say let's get some lyrium and mages, but I doubt enough mages even survived the attacks." Crossing her arms, Fiah grudgingly admitted to herself that the blood magic ritual was the best option—even if it meant sacrificing Isolde.

_The rogue doesn't even like her. She's annoying. And manipulative. And completely willing to die. So, everybody wins this way, really._

"Not to mention how long it would take to travel there and back," Landon agreed. "How about this: I'll go get Wynne and Jowan, and the rest of you can decide what to do." Before Alistair could argue, he left the room.

Sighing, Fiah sunk to the floor and leaned her head against the wall. "My vote is for blood magic," she yawned. "But, whatever. Just don't send me back to the Circle." With that, she crossed her arms and settled into the wall as best as she could, hoping for a power nap of sorts.

Fiah felt like she was just drifting off when someone shook her shoulder. "Wake up, Fiah," a warm voice called.

"Landon?" she mumbled, peeling her heavy eyes open.

"Jowan's going to start the ritual," Landon explained. "Tanya decided we don't have enough time to wait for Circle mages." He helped Fiah to her feet and she stumbled forwards groggily, still fuzzy from her nap.

It took her a moment to realize that she was leaning into Landon, and she straightened herself and pretended to be preoccupied with a slight tear in one of her gloves. "Where's Tanya?" she asked, certain the Warden wasn't taking her decision well.

Landon pointed her down a hall to her right. "Teagan took her to the arl's study. She said she needed a place to sit and that she didn't want to be here for…" His eyes flicked to where Isolde stood, her entire frame shaking.

"Well, I'm going to join her, then." Without an explanation, Fiah headed down the hall to the study. While she wouldn't have blinked over sacrificing Isolde, she figured Tanya would be a mess. Carefully, Fiah pushed open the door, not wanting to startle the Warden.

Tanya was bent over the arl's desk, holding something in her hands. Her head snapped up at Fiah's footsteps, but she looked relieved once she recognized who it was. "Fiah, come look at this." She held out her hands, and Fiah saw that she held an old pendant, painstakingly pieced back together from dozens of tiny fragments.

"It's nice," Fiah shrugged, "but I thought we agreed to leave the petty thievery to _me_?" She offered a wry grin, but Tanya just shook her head.

"I think… I think it's Alistair's. He told me about something like this, once. It's from his mother." Her voice was quiet and thoughtful, but sad.

_No_, Fiah amended, _not just sad. Something far more… sullen. Mournful, almost_. "What are you going to do with it?"

"Can I… take it?" she asked hesitantly. "I'd give it back to Alistair, of course."

Crossing her arms, Fiah scrutinized the young woman who stood before her. There was a definite aura of uncertainty about her, but also of conviction. "No," she decided, plucking the amulet from Tanya's outstretched hands. "_I'll_ take it. I'm the thief, you know." Grinning, she pinched the amulet between her thumb and forefinger. "Look at this lovely thing I found," she quipped in falsetto. "Isn't it lovely? Would you like it, Tanya?"

"Oh, stop it!" Tanya chastised lightly, grabbing the pendant back. "Alright, so _you_ stole it. But _I _get to give it to Alistair."

"Fair enough," Fiah surrendered. Inspecting the rest of the study, she wondered whether or not there was anything else worth stealing.

_Well, the rogue has plenty of time to spare. Her fancy noblewoman friend might not like it, but the rogue plans on making a bit of coin tonight_.

* * *

It was well past midnight when the ritual was complete. Connor had been saved, but he and Teagan needed to be alone to mourn for Isolde, so the group decided to camp on the outskirts of Redcliffe for one last night. They ended up being short one tent, but Fiah was glad to surrender hers in favor of sleeping under the wide open sky.

The elf seemed to be the only one in decent spirits that night; everyone else was shaken by the ritual, even Kielle. Morrigan, however, was her usual snarky self, which presented Fiah with a wonderful opportunity.

"I was under the impression that setting up camp far away from everyone else meant I did not wish to be disturbed," the witch called as Fiah approached.

"Well, _I_ was under the impression that you'd enjoy what I was going to give you," Fiah shot back, her voice smoothly matching Morrigan's.

"Give me?" The witch narrowed her golden eyes suspiciously.

Fiah nodded, clutching the grimoire behind her back and taking a few slow, deliberate steps towards her camp. "From the Circle."

"Why would _I_ want anything from there?" she scoffed, waving her hand in dismissal.

"Well," Fiah crooned, "Landon told me about this rumor. He said a grimoire had been taken from a Witch of the Wilds, and sure enough, tucked away in a locked chest in the First Enchanter's office, was _this_." She held the thick book out in front of her, stifling a triumphant grin at Morrigan's wide eyes.

"Mother's grimoire," she breathed, reaching out to take the book. The witch flipped through the pages, scanning the words, her wide eyes devouring its content. "I… I suppose I should thank you?" she stammered, closing the book slowly. "I have no gift of my own, and…" her voice faltered.

"It's fine, Morrigan. It's a _gift_. You don't have to repay me." Fiah smiled up at Morrigan, trying to push as much sincerity into her blue eyes as possible.

Morrigan's hands grasped the book, and she clutched it close to her chest. For a moment, she looked hopeful. "Then… why?" she asked, her voice quiet and without the venom it typically contained.

It was Fiah's turn to hesitate. Originally, she'd wanted to give the book to Morrigan to try and gain some favor with her, but now that she was leaving, that no longer mattered. "It's no secret that some of our other… companions don't particularly enjoy your presence." Morrigan snorted at that. "I suppose I just wanted to let you know that—" _That what? It's not like I can say, "So, here's a gift because I don't _hate_ you!" Maker's breath. Get your shit together, Fiah._ "While they might not see it, I admire your strength. I think it's wonderful having you around. Besides," she drawled, "I think it's pretty impressive that you're the daughter of _Flemeth_. I thought maybe you'd be willing to share some stories?"

"Stories about her lovers, perhaps?" Morrigan suggested, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "Would you like to hear how she used them until they were wasted? Or perhaps a story about the creative ways she… _disposed_ of the templars who hunted us?"

"Ooh, all good stories, I'm sure." Taking a seat near Morrigan's tiny campfire, Fiah leaned back on her hands and looked up at the star filled sky. "How about shape-shifting? Tell me about that. How does it work? How many animal forms have you tried? Is it magnificent, being out there in the forest—being _part_ of the forest?"

Morrigan joined her by the fire, an odd look crossing her face. "Yes, 'tis truly magnificent. I would describe it as _liberating_."

As Morrigan began describing her various journeys into the Wilds, Fiah began to feel like a child again, sitting by the hearth with her father, begging him for stories about his hunts.

* * *

_"Father, tell me the one about the fox again," Fiah pleaded, climbing into her father's lap. She clasped her tiny hands together, holding them up for him to see. "Please? Just _one_ more story before bed?"_

_"Oh, alright," he laughed. "When I was a very young boy, I ran out into the forest looking for a squirrel who'd eaten a peach from my very first peach tree. Instead, I found a beautiful red fox. She was so scared of me—"_

_"Because you had your bow!" Fiah interrupted, collapsing into a fit of giggles as her father tickled her as punishment for interrupting. _

_"Yes," he chuckled, his daughter's laughter contagious. "I had my bow, and she was scared. So I left my weapons and followed her through the forest—very, very quietly. When I found her again, she was curled up with a tiny kit, barely two weeks old. The mother wanted to attack me. Can you tell me why?"_

_Fiah looked away, her tiny forehead creasing as she pondered her father's many lessons about the forest. "She wanted to protect her kit?" she ventured, her voice small._

_"Correct. A mother will always protect her kits before she protects herself." His voice turned serious, his eyes trained on his daughter's carefree face. "As will a father."_

_His sincerity was lost to Fiah. "Then you gave her your peach!"_

_"I gave her my lunch, yes. That fox began following me around, all over the forest. Sometimes, she'd even come into the Alienage, and I'd have to shoo her away, out of fear that one of the other elves wouldn't play nice with her. Her fox kit grew to be a strong and fearsome adult, and he would come around my house sometimes, too. But, many years later, the—"_

_"I would name him Puddles," Fiah announced solemnly, her round eyes focused on her father. "The fox kit. Can I have a fox kit?"_

_"My dearest Fiahrel," her father smiled, "you may not. One day, I will find you a Mabari to hunt with, and you may name him Puddles. But no foxes for you."_

_Fiah yawned, trying to hide it from her father lest he send her immediately to bed. "I want a fox kit," she pouted. _

_"What did you say?" her father feigned. "You want to go to bed?" With a warm chuckle, he scooped his daughter off her feet and carried her to her little pallet that served as her bed, ignoring her shrill laughter and half-hearted protests. He blew out the solitary candle and watched Fiah in the moonlight that streamed through the hole in their roof._

_Smiling to herself, Fiah snuggled into the thin pallet and pulled the blanket tighter around her—well, one of her mother's old tunics, which served as her blanket. Her mind was filled with thoughts of tiny red foxes, but she heard her father's soft voice in the still of the night._

_"Sleep well, my little fox kit."_


	10. Apology

**A/N: **We're going to take a break from the canon storyline for a bit. Back to the Alienage for Fiah!

That _does_ mean that we're going to have a couple chapters without Landon, but don't worry, he'll be back soon. ;)

* * *

Fiah was awoken by the light crackle of a newly-started fire. She cracked an eye open, watching as Landon methodically summoned flames over the small pile of wood.

"You know, some would consider it rude to barge into a woman's bedroom unannounced," Fiah teased, her voice rough with exhaustion. Her dreams had left her feeling no better rested than she had been when she'd fallen asleep the night before.

Without looking up from the fire, Landon chuckled and shot back, "Your bedroom?"

"This is where my bed is, isn't it?"

"You don't get to claim Redcliffe as your bedroom. So," he mused, a smile playing at the edge of his lips, "who's Puddles?"

Sitting up, Fiah ran her fingers through her unkempt ebony hair, trying to work out some of the tangles so she could re-braid it. "Puddles was what I was going to name my fox," she explained drowsily, not wanting to elaborate.

"That's the first time I've heard you talk in your sleep."

"That's the first time in a long time that I've had a dream instead of a nightmare." Fiah shrugged, twisting her hair into a simple braid and securing it with a thin leather strip. "So, what's on the agenda for today?"

"Well," Landon began, giving up on the fire and coming to sit on the log nearest Fiah, "Tanya wanted to check back with Teagan and make sure everything's alright. If the arl hasn't shown any signs of waking, we have to figure out what to do about that. Then it's off to Orzammar, I believe."

Fiah wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Gross. Cities are bad enough _without_ being underground."

"Good thing you're leaving, then."

The elf glanced at Landon, unsure if he was teasing or not. His expression was unreadable, somewhere between grim and lighthearted, with a bit of ambiguity thrown in for fun—In other words, Fiah had no clue. "Right. So, maybe I should set off while it's still early." Her eyes remained locked onto Landon, trying to gauge his response.

He just shrugged.

_Not. Fair. Newsflash – you're a _mage_. You aren't allowed to be mysterious or sneaky. That's the rogue's job. _

Crossing her legs, Fiah stretched her arms above her head, groaning a bit as her achy back protested. She reached forward and grabbed her bow, quiver, and pack, checked that everything was still there, and stood to begin gathering up her bedroll.

"You didn't tell anyone, did you?" Landon asked suddenly. "About… me and Jowan?"

"Not a word," Fiah promised. "Though," she added with a smirk, "that _does_ explain your seemingly insatiable need to save the mages."

"What? Insatiable need…" Landon grumbled. He pointed to the empty space next to him. "Sit. I'll explain. You sit and listen."

Fiah didn't need to be told twice. She dropped her things and settled onto the log by Landon.

"This goes back to my Fade nightmare," he began. "It has _nothing_ to do with wanting to save mages; it's about saving innocents. Mage children are taken from their families and aren't given the nurturing they need. Instead, they're treated like… like small mages. Not _children_. By the time I was ten years old, they had taught me enough to raze a small town, but…" He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath before continuing. "What happened with Jowan and me was a mistake, brought on by the Circle's misguided teachings. We didn't understand the dangers; we just knew we were afraid of the templars. Sometimes, people make mistakes that they don't understand they've made, and I can't justify holding it against them. It has _nothing_ to do with mages," he repeated.

_The rogue senses an opportunity. _Ignoring the way her heart fluttered in protest, Fiah reached over and took one of Landon's hands, squeezing it gently. "Well, we saved all those innocent mages at the Circle, and we saved quite a few innocent people here in Redcliffe, Connor included. And I don't really think anyone blames Connor for the… fiasco he caused. Like you said, he made a mistake he didn't understand."

"I know. And I hope Jowan helped him in ways that the Circle won't. I know it probably sounds ridiculous," he muttered, smiling a bit, "but Jowan was probably the best thing that could've happened to Connor. He understands about the Circle."

Fiah kept her eyes trained on the fire, now just a smoldering pile of half-burned logs and ashes. "It's not ridiculous," she assured him.

"Thank you." Landon smiled down at her, his calm blue eyes searching her face.

_Palms are beginning to sweat. Abort! Abort! The rogue needs an excuse!_ "Umm, you're welcome." Fiah scooted away, tugging her hand away from Landon. "I should pack. Then I can leave." She gathered her things in her arms, slinging the quiver over her shoulder.

_How does one say goodbye in this situation? Does it involve a hug? A handshake? _Fiah kept her back turned, fumbling with a strap on her pack as her mind whirled with an unfamiliar sort of anxiety. _Bye, have fun battling the Blight? It was fun; we should do it again sometime? Hey, if you survive, you should come visit my shack in the slums? _

_Maker's breath, this is complicated. Maybe I should just wait until everyone wakes up, then I can just do a quick, "Bye, everyone," then wave and leave. But what would I do until then? Stand here awkwardly?_

"So," she decided, turning just enough so she could see Landon, "I should probably leave before it gets too late. Don't want to waste time. It's a long way to Denerim."

"Right. I'll let the others know." Landon stood, giving her a quick hug. "You'll have to come visit us once we get to Denerim. Give everyone a proper farewell before we try and save the world."

_Hah! Problem solved. See? That was simple._ "I'll do that." Fiah found herself grinning up at him, not sure why. Clearing her throat, she fidgeted with her pack a bit, then turned to leave before she did something that would embarrass her. As she trudged out of the camp, a quiet _tsk _made her stop.

Morrigan stood in the tiny campsite she'd made for herself. "I saw that," she chastised, crossing her arms.

"What?" Fiah shrugged innocently. "Everyone already knows I'm leaving."

"He's _fond_ of you," Morrigan crooned. Her golden eyes narrowed in hostility, but her lips curled into a dark smile.

She laughed nervously, wringing her hands in front of her. "You're crazy, Morrigan. I'll miss that, I really will." _Change subject! Change it! _"Have fun with that grimoire. Don't forget to tell me what's in it. I'll come find you," she warned lightly.

"Please do," the witch smirked. "Between the templar and the elf, camp is going to be terribly dreadful."

"Don't hesitate to _lose_ Kielle in the woods, on _accident_," Fiah grinned. "Nobody will mind."

"The idea is certainly a tempting one. Now leave, lest I be subject to teary farewells," Morrigan commanded, pointing sharply at the path that led to Redcliffe.

With one last look towards camp, Fiah took a deep breath and headed off to Denerim. She hadn't taken more than few steps when Morrigan's voice drifted to her.

"And thank you, again, for the grimoire."

* * *

Deep down, Fiah knew she'd rather face a thousand angry Kielles than deal with a scorned Shianni.

But, she conveniently pushed away that truth, not even bothering to try and find another reason why she had been camped outside of Denerim for two nights. When she woke up on the second morning, she forced herself to grit her teeth and pack up her bedroll.

_The rogue would rather spend the rest of her life out here, but she's tired of all this excitement. For all its shortcomings, the Alienage is a rather boring and lovely place._

The Alienage. Not home.

Fiah wasn't entirely sure what had brought about the change in her mind, but for some reason the Alienage wasn't her home anymore. It was just a boring little slum in a corrupt little city, where a run-down shack and a lumpy mattress awaited her. _Home_ was something she didn't have anymore; it was the forest, the outside, the star-filled sky.

Home wasn't a place anymore. It was a feeling.

She had only been away from the Wardens for a few days, and already she was aching to go back. Whether it was the excitement—_doubtful—_or the long treks through the wilds—_probably—_or even being with Landon—_where the hell did that idea come from?!_—Fiah knew that if she ever had a second chance, she'd go back. Because, really, Kielle had been partly right when she'd accused Fiah of becoming selfless and humble due to her guilt.

Not that she was selfless or humble. Far from it.

But, the guilt had changed something. Survival had always been about _Fiah_, not about anyone else. After abandoning the elves in the arl's estate and travelling with the Wardens, survival had become about Ferelden. Whether it was the mages, or the villagers of Redcliffe, or the Alienage elves, Fiah was beginning to believe that if she could help ensure someone else's survival, she should.

Her life came first, of course.

Helping the mages hadn't been so bad. She's left with more sovereigns than she'd seen in her entire life, and if she was willing to admit it to herself, she'd actually felt _good_ about the whole ordeal.

And then, there was the guilt that came afterwards about the elves.

With a sigh, Fiah shrugged her quiver over her shoulder and grabbed her bow. Hopefully, she wouldn't look like an Alienage elf, and she could get past the guards.

_Fiahrel – adventurer and rogue, savior of the Ferelden Circle!_

_Ooh, I like the sound of that._

Wearing the hint of a smile, Fiah strode through the city with a familiar confidence. The wide pathways, the towering walls, the noisy merchants—this was a world she knew and understood inside and out.

Her smug confidence wavered as she approached the gate to the Alienage. Just a few more steps, and she'd have to explain and apologize to Shianni and Soris.

_Well,_ she steeled herself with a deep breath, _I survived Kielle, and she's the only one who can use a sword. I suppose I can survive being yelled at._

"Fiah?"

She cringed. Two steps into the Alienage, and she'd already been spotted by Soris. "Hi," she waved weakly. But to her surprise, he didn't look angry.

"Oh, thank goodness you're back." The relief on Soris' face quickly melted into concern.

"What?" Fiah cocked her head in confusion, unable to do more than stare at the elf in front of her.

Without warning, Soris grabbed her arm and tried to drag her with him. "Things are terrible," he explained when she didn't budge. "Without the meat you bring back, there's been a food shortage. Elves have taken to eating the stray cats and dogs that wander in here, and when it isn't enough, some are even willing to buy rotten food from the humans. It's awful!"

Fiah nodded in understanding. Looking around, she saw mangled corpses of various animals strewn around the Alienage. "Well, I'm back. I think I'm here to stay. For now, at least." She shrugged, silently praying that Shianni would be as forgiving. "So, about what happened before I left…" she muttered awkwardly, dragging the toe of her boot across the uneven cobblestones.

"Fiah." Soris grabbed her by the shoulders, staring her straight in the eyes. "I don't care. The Alienage is diseased. Elves are dying. _That's_ what I care about right now."

"I tell you what," she compromised, clasping one of Soris' shoulders tightly, "I'll go hunting right now. I'll bring back as much meat as possible, and we'll make a big stew. Enough for everyone. _You_ go talk to Shianni, and convince her not to kill me when I get back."

"She won't."

The icy tone made Fiah's heart flutter in fear. "Why not?"

"Shianni's been sick." Soris released his grip on Fiah, looking down at his own feet. "The… the carcasses, they've polluted the water here. She's doing better, now, but…"

An idea popped into Fiah's head. "Here." She reached into her coin purse and pulled out a handful of sovereigns. "Buy food. Good food. And medicine."

Soris' eyes grew wide as she poured the gold into his shaking hands. "Are you sure?"

She shrugged. "I've got enough sovereigns to take care of myself," she answered vaguely, not betraying the fact that the dozen or so coins wouldn't even make a dent in her own stash. "Talk to Shianni," she reminded him. "I'm off to hunt." Fiah clapped Soris lightly on the shoulder, then made her way through the Alienage, wrinkling her nose at the foul odor of decaying flesh.

Fiah paused when she reached her house. The crooked door, the smashed in window, the garbage that always accumulated by the doorstep… it was all familiar, and yet Fiah felt like, somehow, this wasn't _her_ house anymore. It was just another ruined piece of property in the slums.

_Well, it's not getting any prettier just by staring at it._

With a small sigh, Fiah pushed open the creaking door and stepped into the dim house. She tossed her pack onto her lumpy mattress and set the bow and quiver on the table. To her surprise, nothing seemed to have been stolen. Fiah dropped to the ground and slid her body underneath the low bed, tugging a piece of wood free from the bed frame. A tiny pouch dropped onto the floor beside her with a_ clink_. She replaced the pouch with her bulging coin purse and shuffled out from under the bed, dragging the pouch with her.

_Seven sovereigns_, she counted. That's all that she'd had to her name before she'd left, and now she had over ten times that much. _Maybe I should ransack the Circle more often. _

_Okay, I'm kidding. Sort of._

Taking only the pouch and her weapons, Fiah headed back out, striking up her familiar routine. Yes, she did enjoy travelling with the Wardens, but hunting for the Alienage was safer and more comfortable. Most of all, it was simpler, and really, that's all Fiah wanted out of her life.

Simplicity.

_The rogue makes her way through the crowded city, taking note of every merchant and jingling pocket in the square. This is simple, this is familiar, but this isn't home. _

_But for now, this is important, and so this is what the rogue will do._


	11. Miracle

**A/N: **I've got a question for all my lovely readers. Yes, that means you. So, I've actually written three or four chapters ahead of what I've posted, and I've decided to send some of our friends back to Ostagar, which got me thinking - how much original storyline would everyone like? I figure we'll have two, maybe three chapters in Ostagar, and the Orzammar questline is going to take several chapters, but it's because I'm adding LOTS of my own stuff.

Basically, would you prefer to read something totally original (like this chapter, which completely doesn't occur in-game) or is it alright to spend four or five chapters in a revamped Deep Roads? (Just for a minute, forget that you hate the Deep Roads.)

Or even, if you don't mind an extremely long story, I could do both? Ultimately, I'll be writing whatever Fiah asks me to, but I'd love your opinions!

* * *

_Hi, Andraste. It's me, Fiahrel. _

_You know, the one who accidentally threw up on the Revered Mother during that nasty bout of sickness ten years ago._

_So, yeah. It's me. Hi. How are you? I'm doing great, just in case you were wondering. Well, actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. See, I've got some friends who are trying to save Ferelden from the Blight, and you're probably really busy helping them, but could I get your complete and undivided attention for just a minute? _

_The thing is: I don't want to die. _

_So, if you could just use your magical holy powers to smite the hell out of these darkspawn, that would be _great. _Thanks in advance._

"Die, dammit!" Nocking another arrow, Fiah trained her sights on the creature at the base of her tree. Already, she'd embedded two arrows solidly into the skull of the darkspawn, but it showed no signs of giving up; the third arrow seemed to do the trick, and it fell dead on the ground.

One of the four remaining creatures, taller than the rest—were they hurlocks?—arced its sword through the air, catching the limb that Fiah was crouching on. She escaped the attack unharmed, but the clang of the sword caused a violent tremor to quake through the wood. Nearly dropping her bow, Fiah grabbed the branch and held on for dear life. One of her feet lost its grip, and she fell over the side, her feet swinging free as her hands clawed deep into the limb. With a desperate, frantic gasp, Fiah pulled herself back onto the branch, scrambling to regain her footing.

_Hello! Andraste! You're doing a really shitty job, you know._

Once she'd righted herself again, Fiah reached for another arrow. In a succession of quick, precise movements, she was able to take care of the rest of the darkspawn, with the exception of the hurlock. Grimacing, Fiah nocked one of her two remaining arrows, and waited.

The hurlock danced around the base of the tree, searching for an opening to attack. Fiah crouched on the branch, eyes narrowed in concentration. She watched the darkspawn's movements closely, waiting for the inevitable moment when it tensed…

And she let the arrow fly.

As the hurlock had moved to raise its sword in attack, it had left its skull wide open for Fiah's arrow to find. Knowing it wouldn't be enough, Fiah quickly followed her shot with another.

It still wasn't enough, and now she was out of arrows.

"I did not come all this way to be eaten by some sort of darkspawn scum," Fiah growled. Steeling herself, she tossed her bow to the ground below and slid her daggers from their sheaths. With a feral cry, Fiah dropped from the tree, landing on the balls of her feet and letting the momentum force her knees to bend. From her crouch, she lashed out at the hurlock. The dagger in her left hand caught in the darkspawn's decaying armor, but with her right hand, she sliced through flesh and recoiled, preparing for another attack.

She gripped the dagger in both hands and raised it, but as Fiah was about to plunge it into the creature's chest, her leg exploded in pain. Without looking or thinking, Fiah struck at the darkspawn, driving her dagger into its flesh over and over until the adrenaline flooded from her body and left her acutely aware of the bloody gash in her left calf.

Tossing her dagger aside, Fiah collapsed to the ground amongst the corpses and dug through her pack for some bandages. Gingerly, she began to work the boot off of her foot, slowly separating the shredded leather from her tender skin.

_The rogue hates this. Hates it. She hates—Oh, sweet Maker! Damn you! _

Her curses began to slip through her lips in long, breathless strings as her vision began to swim from the pain. Fiah wasn't sure if she could make it back to the city by herself, but she had no choice. She quickly covered the wound with one of the bandages, not bothering to secure it completely or wipe off the blood from her skin. Fiah looked back towards the road, which was obscured by several feet of forest, and felt her shoulders droop.

_That's it. I'm going to die here. _

"Oh, don't worry, Fiah," she quipped in falsetto, attempting to impersonate Andraste, "since I forgot to save your life earlier, I'll do it now." Fiah clenched her teeth down on her bottom lip, trying to drown some of the pain out. "I could use a bloody miracle," she seethed.

_No_, her mind chided_, you need to stop chasing after excitement. Just because you promised Soris that you'd hunt doesn't mean you have to voluntarily attack darkspawn._

"Shut up," she mumbled to herself. If she was going to back at the Alienage before nightfall, Fiah knew she'd have to suck it up and walk. So, she slung her bow over her shoulder and stood.

And promptly slithered back to the ground. 

_Ow._

Seeing that there was no way for her to put weight on her left leg, Fiah crawled along the forest floor, searching for a stick that was long and thick enough to support her. When she found a fallen branch that looked sturdy enough, Fiah leaned heavily on the stick and used a nearby tree to help pull herself to her feet. She limped towards the road, half-dragging her bloody foot behind her.

_I've never, ever donated to the Andrastian Chantry, _she thought through gritted teeth, _but if I don't get a miracle between here and the city gates, I'm not even going to feel guilty about not donating. Hell, I'll _steal _from the donation box. How do you like that, Andraste?_

_Leliana would kill me if she knew what I was thinking right now._

As Fiah slowly limped down the road to the city, thoughts of her former companions filled her mind. If she'd had Tanya or Alistair with her, she wouldn't have been caught off-guard by the darkspawn. Or, if she were with Wynne or Landon, or even Morrigan, she could be walking properly on a healed leg.

Fiah sighed. She missed them. After all the years she'd spent in the Alienage with Faelid, she hadn't even once thought about missing him, but after only a few days away from the Wardens, she missed them all terribly.

Well, most of them. Landon, Leliana, and Tanya, mostly. Morrigan, too. And Alistair was good company, she supposed. Wynne was too pushy, though.

With another sigh, Fiah admitted to herself that if the ragtag crew ever came back through Denerim, she'd practically be begging to rejoin them, despite her better judgment. Groaning, Fiah forced herself to focus on the slightly more important issue, consciously keeping her weight shifted to her right.

She reached the city gates just as the sun dropped below the trees. Once she was within the city walls, Fiah felt her pace increase at the prospect of being so close to _healing poultices_. Pausing at the edge of the market district, she patted the coin purse strapped to her belt to ensure she still had coin left. Fiah began to walk towards the market stalls, but a young boy ran past her and nearly knocked her off her makeshift crutch.

"You get your slimy little ass back here!" Fiah yelled, both in anger and in pain.

The boy turned, his eyes wide with fear. "Y-yes?" he stammered, obviously not used to being berated like this.

Deciding to make the best of the situation, Fiah slipped a sovereign out of her coin purse and wiggled it at the boy. "You do me a favor," she bargained, "and I'll forget about that little incident, _plus_ I'll give you this."

He looked up to Fiah with bright, expectant eyes.

"Take this over to market and buy me a health poultice. If you come back, I'll give you twice as much coin as it costs." She flipped him the coin, narrowing her eyes to make sure he understood that she'd be watching.

The boy was fast, rushing from one stall to the next until he found a merchant with health poultices. He raced back to Fiah, a little red vial in one hand. "Here!" he exclaimed, holding out the poultice and dumping a few silver coins in her waiting hand.

"Thank you, ser." Fiah dug out a pair of sovereigns and tossed them to the boy. Plopping down in the middle of Denerim, Fiah unwrapped her left leg and used the clean edges of the old bandages to get some of the blood off of her calf. She bit her tongue until it bled, trying to ignore her mind's protests against the pain. Grimacing, Fiah spread some of the thick medicine on the gash.

_That stings. Oh, it stings. Maker! Damn it, this hurts! _

Gradually, the fiery throb of the poultice faded, replaced by a cool, soothing thrum that Fiah had come to associate with healing. Already, the swelling and redness around the gash was beginning to lessen. Fiah pulled another bandage from her pack and wrapped the wound, taking more care than she had the first time.

After a few more minutes, the poultice had nearly numbed the wound, so Fiah took a deep breath and grabbed the makeshift crutch, using it to pull herself to her feet. Walking was easier, now, though her feet were clumsier from the poultice's effects.

When Fiah made it to the Alienage, she found Soris waiting expectantly. He rushed up to her, demanding a dozen different things at once.

"Slow down," she instructed. "I'm fine, but don't you _dare_ touch this crutch. I didn't get any meat, mostly due to an inconvenience involving a certain shredded leg. I'll go buy something from the market, so don't worry."

Soris looked relieved for a moment, but it was quickly replaced by concern. "Are you sure? Food from the market is pretty expensive these days."

Fiah's mind grumbled in protest, but she nodded. "I've got a bit of money to spare. Help me to the house, please."

Nodding, Soris moved to Fiah's side, replacing the temporary crutch. She leaned heavily on him, and together they limped to Fiah's house. Once there, she motioned for him to stay outside, while she shuffled to where she'd hidden her coin purse under the bed. Grabbing a generous handful of sovereigns, Fiah tucked the money into the pouch on her belt. She shed her weapons, then rejoined Soris outside.

"So, has anyone tried to get outside help?" Fiah asked as they made their way back to the market.

Soris shook his head. "There's no use. The arl's been busy with complaints from the humans. There's no way he has time for Alienage elves." He paused thoughtfully. "Do you know about the new arl?"

"No. Maker, tell me it isn't Vaughan?"

"No," Soris snorted. "I've heard that bastard got locked in his own prison. The arl's name is Rendon Howe."

Fiah scrunched her nose, digging through her memories to try and figure out why that name seemed familiar. _Not just familiar—important._

"Supposedly he's being rewarded by Loghain. I don't know, though," Soris shrugged. "It's still the same in the Alienage, no matter who's arl."

_Loghain… Loghain. _Again, another name that seemed familiar. _Ah! Loghain, the murderous bastard!_ "Do you know anything about Howe?" Fiah asked, craning her neck to search the market stalls as she and Soris drew closer. "Anything along the lines of a murderer or traitor?"

Again, Soris shrugged. "I know he's from Amaranthine. People seem to respect him, I guess."

"Good. Then I'm going to speak with him tomorrow," Fiah decided. If there was one thing she'd learned since she'd met the Wardens, it was that a good weapon and a sharp tongue could open all the right doors.

"He won't listen."

She cocked her head defiantly. "I'll make him. Now go talk to that guy over there and see how much food we can buy with ten sovereigns." Fiah gave Soris a light shove towards the merchant, then ducked behind the stall. She'd noticed a locked chest earlier, no doubt filled with all sorts of expensive little delights. As soon as she was sure that Soris had the merchant's attention, Fiah whipped out her lock picking set and fiddled with the lock until it clickedopen. Most of the chest's contents were useless—papers, quills, and other business-y things—but Fiah snatched a small coin pouch and a thin dagger, which looked elvish, and would therefore be both dependable and expensive.

As she stood, she tucked the coin away and slid the dagger into her belt at the small of her back, carefully readjusting her pack so that it hid the blade from view. Her calf was beginning to ache from kneeling down, but Fiah just leaned against a table and shifted her weight off her left leg. As she did her best to look uninteresting and innocent, she caught sight of an elf on the other side of the market. She squinted a bit, unable to get a good look at him in the fading light, but she swore he grinned at her.

_Gah! Bad! Look busy… look busy. Soris, get back here!_

_Too late. Dammit._

As the elf drew closer, the orange glow of the setting sun glinted off a pair of daggers strapped to his back. Fiah made a mental note that his armor matched hers, with the exception of her one useless, hurlock-shredded boot. He seemed to sense her curious stare, and his grin grew wider.

Fiah took a deep breath, glancing frantically over at Soris. If it weren't for her leg—which was beginning to burn—she would've moved over to where her friend was doing his best to haggle with the merchant, but Fiah wasn't sure she wanted to leave the comfort of leaning against the table. When she looked back for the elf, he was gone.

Her rogue instincts kicked in, and Fiah reached for the dagger she'd just tucked away in her belt.

It, too, was gone.

"Looking for this?"

"Ah! No! Yes," she corrected, her flustered thoughts comprehending the strange elf that stood to her right, dangling the twice-confiscated blade between them. Slightly incredulous, Fiah patted the small of her back again, checking that the dagger had really been taken. "You give that back!" she insisted, her pride flaring.

The elf just chuckled. "What does a beautiful woman like you need this for, hmm?" He tucked the dagger away and flashed her a grin identical to the one he'd given her from across the market.

Fiah narrowed her eyes, unable to place his accent. "To teach a lesson to creeps like you, that's why."

He raised his hands in surrender. "I understand. I know when I'm not wanted." With another suspicious grin, the elf turned to walk away.

She may have missed his hands when he took the dagger, but Fiah was keenly aware of the elf's touch when he stealthily reached for her pack. Whirling around, she grabbed his wrist and glared straight into his eyes. "You aren't a pickpocket by trade, are you?" she mused, pursing her lips.

"No," he admitted with a little shrug. "The pockets I pick usually belong to someone I've just killed. Strangely enough, _they've_ never been able to catch me."

_Assassin._

"Well, I suggest you work on your _live_ targets before coming back here," Fiah suggested lightly.

"Ah," the elf crooned, "you are a rather experienced thief, I presume?"

Stifling a smug smile, Fiah did her best to smother her need to brag. "You could say that, yes."

"Then perhaps you would be willing to show me some of your _techniques_," he purred, lowering his voice and leaning closer to Fiah. "A _private lesson_, of sorts."

Fiah used her grip on his wrist to push him away. "Don't even think about it," she warned, not missing the innuendo. With one last glare of warning, she hobbled over to where Soris was, praying he was having better luck.

_You've got one last chance, Andraste. I'll I'm asking for is one itty bitty miracle—just _one_ thing that goes right today._

_Remember—I _will_ steal from that donation box._


	12. Ultimatum

**A/N: **I have to admit, I feel really bad for the characters after writing this chapter. Especially poor Fiah, who's just trying to be a good little elf.

Anyway, Landon comes back next chapter! Which means more awkwardness on Fiah's part. ;) I'm also working on a one-shot to show how Tanya and Co. met up with Kielle in the Brecilian Forest, so keep an eye out for that! Remember that if you request a one-shot to go along with this story, I'll do my best to write it!

Pretty please leave a review, full of your love and criticisms!

* * *

"No."

Fiah gave the merchant the sweetest, most innocent smile she could conjure up. "Just two little crates of yummy deer meat. That's all I ask." She dangled the coin purse in front of him, adding, "I'll pay a bit extra today."

With a grunt, the merchant crossed his arms and eyed her warily. "Stock's already low, what with this damn war. Two crates means I won't have anything left to sell."

"Great! That means you can use the extra money to enjoy your nice day off."

Rolling his eyes, the merchant gave in and asked, "How much are you offering?"

Tapping the coins rhythmically, Fiah contemplated the question for a moment. _If you give any more money away, you won't have any left for yourself. And remember – there's only one Circle in Ferelden, and you've already ransacked it. Your sources of income are limited. _"Yesterday we got two crates for ten sovereigns. Today, I'll give you twelve," she offered.

"Fine."

She breathed a sigh of relief and looked around the market for Soris and Faelid. While her injured leg was doing much better than the night before, she still walked with a limp and wasn't able to carry the crates. Thankfully, the two elves were coming her way; Soris had a pack slung over his shoulder, hopefully filled with health poultices. Fiah motioned for the two of them to hurry up, pointing at the crate.

Without a word, Faelid picked up the crate and Soris offered Fiah his arm. Leaning heavily into Soris, Fiah asked, "Did you pick up some more bandages?"

He nodded. "I got six poultices and a couple flasks of that medicine we got for Shianni yesterday. Before long, we'll have the Alienage up and running again."

As they passed into the Alienage, Fiah began to wonder if he wasn't right. The night before, the three of them had managed to clean most of the carcasses out of the roads, and, with Cyrion's help, had prepared a stew large enough for most everyone to have at least one bowl. It had been thin—mostly water from the Chantry well—but the meat and a bit of vegetables had made a heartier meal than most of the Alienage elves had eaten all week.

It made Fiah proud, doing good for her people. Leliana had rubbed off on her a bit, but she wasn't complaining; any contempt that was held for her after she'd abandoned the three elves in the arl's estate was gone, replaced by a respect that her thievery and hunting never earned her.

They dropped off the meat at Cyrion's house, leaving Faelid to help prepare the meal. Soris was going to help, but Fiah pulled him back outside. "I can't keep doing this," she admitted. "I just don't have the money, and the food supply's low from the war. There has to be another way."

Soris' eyes flicked nervously towards the center of the Alienage, where elves had gathered for a casual morning chat. "Do you still think…?" He fidgeted and put his hands on his hips, taking a long, slow breath. "The arl?"

It was Fiah's turn to look away nervously. "I think I might be able to convince him, if I can get to him." After standing toe-to-toe with both the First Enchanter and the Knight-Commander, Fiah was certain that an arl would be no problem. The issue was finding a way to get an audience with the arl, which Fiah couldn't find a plausible solution for. Shifting her weight and staring at her new boots, Fiah considered the only solution that had the _slightest_ chance of working: sneaking in.

"I know what you're thinking," Soris muttered. "It's not stupid. It could work. I don't care what Faelid said; if anyone has a chance in there, it's you."

Fiah sighed. He was right, of course. He and Faelid both were.

_The rogue knows her way around that damn estate too well. Problem is – she doesn't _want_ to remember it. _

"I think that's what it's going to come down to." Taking a deep breath, Fiah stood up straight, staring Soris straight in the eye. "I have a couple other ideas, but I'll do whatever it takes to get in there and talk to Arl Howe."

* * *

"Ready?"

Fiah nodded.

"Got the daggers?"

"Boots and sleeves."

"Alright. Let's go, I guess," Soris sighed, not looking too happy about the entire ordeal.

Punching him lightly on the arm, Fiah gave Soris a wide grin. "Aw, come one. You'll do _great_." He gave a nervous smile in response, but Fiah didn't let it dampen her hopes. She'd decided that breaking into the arl's estate would be easiest to do if she played on the expectation that an elf would be a servant; Soris would cause a distraction for the guards, and Fiah would slip in through the servants' entrance.

_It's too easy_.

Of course, the only problem was that Fiah refused to plan any further ahead than that. She'd never had any good experiences in that damned estate, so she tried to avoid thinking about it. It would be simple enough for her to find her way to the arl, so she wasn't too worried.

According to Soris, she should be running through the Alienage screaming in fear.

_Well, he'll just have to remain disappointed, won't he? _Grinning to herself, Fiah motioned for Soris to take his place, then walked casually onto the estate grounds. As she waited for Soris' signal, she did her best to blend in with the angry crowd that had formed near the front entrance. Nervous excitement shot through her, and Fiah anxiously checked to make sure her concealed blades weren't visible through the frayed tunic or stained pants she wore.

Her eyes remained trained on the far wall, where Soris would launch a bolt from the crossbow Fiah had "borrowed" from a shop that morning. Fidgeting, she chewed her lip and counted internally, mentally assessing how long it should be taking Soris.

_One, two, three, four—Maker, what's taking so long?! Five, six, seven…_

By the time she'd reached twenty, Fiah was beginning to sweat from the anticipation. _Calm down,_ she commanded to herself. _Knowing Soris, he's probably just jammed the stupid thing. He'll shoot it in just a minute, and then you'll—_

A dull thud echoed through the courtyard, capturing Fiah's attention. Another followed, then a third. She glanced at the guards at the front of the estate, but they were focused on the crowd. Silently, Fiah slipped away and crouched behind one of the hedge bushes that lined the pathway to the servants' entrance. The two guards in front of the small door were deep in conversation. One kept pointing to the far wall, so Fiah figured it was safe to assume they were debating whether or not to investigate. She mentally urged Soris to shoot a few more bolts; her injured leg was beginning to burn from her awkward crouching.

To her relief, two more thuds resounded, and the guards reluctantly left their post. Quickly, Fiah leapt from the bush and crossed the path to the door, slipping inside before the guards could notice. Thankfully there wasn't anyone in the tiny room she emerged into. Peeking her head around the open doorway, Fiah saw that the adjacent room was the kitchen. _Perfect._

Doing her best to not look out of place, Fiah sauntered casually into the kitchen and grabbed a platter filled with an assortment of breads, cheeses, and meats in an attempt to add to her "innocent servant girl" ruse. She had nearly made it to the door when a sharp voice stopped her.

"Where do you think you're going with that?" A haggard looking woman with graying hair—the cook, Fiah assumed—pointed a crooked finger at Fiah, her eyes sharp with distrust.

"The arl requested refreshments," she lied coolly, sending up a frantic prayer that the woman wouldn't press.

The woman continued to eye Fiah skeptically, but eventually gave in with a wave of her hand. "You're one of Loghain's, aren't you?" she snapped.

"Yes, serah." Fiah gave a little bow and turned to leave, glad for that little tidbit of information; she hadn't been aware that the teyrn was visiting.

_Alright, Andraste. I suppose I should thank you for that. I take back what I said about stealing from the Chantry donation boxes. For now, at least._

Fiah shuddered as she entered the main hall; the place was crawling with soldiers, exactly as she'd remembered, and she was overwhelmed with relief that she hadn't tried to fight her way in. At the same time, she was filled with an ominous sense of dread, borne from the fact that she'd escaped from this hallway twice—once when her father had died, and once when she'd left Shianni, Soris, and Kielle.

Pushing those thoughts away, Fiah carried on, holding the tray tightly as she wove between the soldiers travelling up and down the hall. She easily found her way to the arl's rooms, her feet carrying her from long-suppressed memories. A guard posted outside the door stopped her, eyeing her suspiciously.

"What's this?"

"Refreshments, as requested by the arl," Fiah mumbled, keeping her eyes down and doing her best impersonation of a shy, nervous servant.

The guard grunted, but opened the door.

_Thank the Maker. Now I just have to figure out how to talk to the arl. The servant thing won't work, I don't think._ Her mind working furiously, Fiah set the platter down on a desk and walked to the closed door that led to the arl's office. Inside, she could hear two voices in a heated argument. She steeled herself with a deep breath and knocked.

The deeper of the two voices growled, "Expecting company?"

"No."

There was silence for a moment, then the first voice decided, "Get the door, Cauthrien."

Fiah breathed deep again and shoved all her anxiety down, replacing it with feigned innocence and worry. The door opened to reveal a woman with a dark ponytail, dressed in full plate armor. "Hello," Fiah smiled, "Could I speak to the arl?"

The woman moved aside, looking up at the two men in incredulousness. Fiah peered around her and saw two armed men, one with grey hair and the other she recognized as Loghain. _This guy killed Cailan? Hero of River Dane my ass—he's old! Do Tanya and Alistair even know who they're stressing over? Seriously—this guy could be an Alienage hahren. _

"Are you one of the servants here?" Loghain demanded.

"I'm from the Alienage," Fiah explained, her words tumbling out quicker than she expected. "I came to speak to Arl Howe about the sickness. We thought that—"

"Get out!" the grey-haired man sneered. "If you have something to say, you can wait with the other rioters."

_Damage control, damage control! _Fiah searched for some way to finish her request, but Loghain shook his head before she could say anything.

"Howe," he mused, "I would think that you would take more interest in the elves of your city."

The tone of his voice made Fiah shudder involuntarily; she didn't trust him. _Slime. The rogue didn't even come to talk to you. _

"Cauthrien," Loghain continued, turning to the woman who had let Fiah in, "have the Tevinter mages left yet?"

"Yes, my lord. They left this morning, perhaps an hour ago."

Loghain's eyes grew distant in thought. He remained silent for a moment, his eyes flicking between Fiah and Howe. "Cauthrien, send some men to bring the Tevinters back. Tell them… tell them I've found a solution. Now," he turned to Fiah, "what's your name?"

"Fiahrel, ser."

"Well, Fiahrel, you've done your country a great service."

Fiah blinked slowly, unconsciously leaning towards the two men. "I have?"

"Yes," Howe interjected, looking like a reprimanded child. "I should have had the decent sense to take care of _all_ the citizens of this city. The Tevinter mages are healers who will take care of this sickness," he explained. "We believe they have a way to… _cleanse_ the Alienage."

Breathing a soft sigh of relief, Fiah thanked them sincerely; as she turned to leave, though, Loghain stopped her. "Please, allow me to walk you out."

Fiah didn't want to refuse, but she certainly didn't trust him, either. Still, he was one of the most powerful men in Ferelden—she couldn't exactly say _no_. "Of course, ser."

As they made their way down the main hall, Loghain remained quiet. He led Fiah into an unfamiliar part of the estate, where there weren't any soldiers or servants. "Now, Fiahrel," he said quietly, "as I mentioned earlier, you've done your country a great service. That's why I'll be overlooking the fact that you've been seen in the company of the Grey Wardens."

"I—what?" Fiah nearly stumbled over her own feet in surprise, sending a wave of fire up her leg from her injured calf.

Loghain cracked a humorless smile, stopping and turning to face her. "The Wardens are the biggest threat to Ferelden—to everything I've spent my whole life fighting for—so I've been watching them. _Closely_. I know you've travelled with them."

Not seeing a way to deny it, and not wanting to end up in a fight of any sorts, Fiah sighed. "Yes. I've travelled with them."

To her surprise, Loghain didn't seem angry, but sympathetic. "I don't know what lies they've fed you, but you _must_ understand that these Wardens are a threat. They've struck out against our country once by killing Cailan, and they won't be stopping there."

Fiah knew this, of course. She also knew that the Wardens had a different view of things, and while she wasn't entirely sure who was right, she firmly believed that there was no way either side could take complete blame. Most importantly, though, she knew she couldn't let Loghain think she was on any side other than his own. _The rogue wants to escape this with her life, after all. _"I… I had no idea," she stammered, feigning surprise. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea who I was travelling with." Hoping to keep Loghain from watching _her_ closely, she added, "You can rest assured – I won't be traveling with them any time soon."

"Yes, you will."

_Damn. Wait—what?_

She looked up at Loghain curiously, and he stared back with cold, hard eyes. "You will accompany the Wardens. When my men seek you out, you will inform them of the Wardens' intentions. Of course," he remarked flippantly, "you can stay here in the Alienage; but in that case, the Tevinter mages will be burning it, not healing."

_You wicked, wicked slimeball of a man. I _knew _I didn't trust you_.


	13. Bears

**A/N: **I had a nice little note for all of you, but the internet deleted it. Twice.

So instead, I'll just remind you to enjoy, and pretty please leave a review. :)

* * *

"I take it everything went well?"

Cringing, Fiah turned to face Faelid. "Yeah, you could say that," she forced out, still shaky from Loghain's threats.

The smile dropped from his face. "He's not helping, is he?"

"No, no," Fiah assured him quickly, "he's helping. There should be mages coming soon to help heal." Not wanting to give Howe or Loghain any reason to threaten the Alienage, she added, "Be sure everyone knows to let them in without _too_ much hassling."

Faelid's smile returned. "I won't make any promises."

Shaking her head, Fiah felt herself mirroring her friend's smile. "Of course not. No one will listen, anyway," she laughed lightly, allowing the stress of the meeting with Loghain to slip away. Their conversation melted into an awkward silence and Fiah drug her left foot through the dirt limply, wanting to avoid telling Faelid that she'd be leaving again.

It wasn't her choice this time, but she still didn't want to tell him.

"So, umm, Faelid," she began shakily, not sure the best way to drop the news.

"Fiah," he interrupted, placing his hands lightly on her shoulders, "you're going to leave again, aren't you?" Before she could answer, Faelid continued, "Please don't. When you… Up at the arl's estate, when Vaughan took you and Shianni and Kielle, I thought that was the last time I was going to see my sister and my best friends. I thought that was the last time I'd see Soris. It's great to know that you're safe, and that Kielle is out there with the Wardens, but please, don't leave me again."

At the sudden vulnerability in Faelid's eyes, Fiah almost couldn't bring herself to admit that she _had_ to leave. Instead, she looked away, her eyes searching every inch of the market, taking in everything but the silent plea in his eyes.

Never before had she been so happy to see red hair.

"Leliana?" Fiah called, peering around her friend to search for the other companions.

The bard turned, her face lighting up when she saw Fiah. Leliana bounded over to where the two elves stood, followed by Morrigan, Alistair, and Landon.

"These are my friends," Fiah explained to Faelid, breaking into a wide grin. Careful not to agitate her injured leg, Fiah gave Leliana a hug, offered an awkward handshake to Alistair, and exchanged a polite nod with Morrigan. When she got to Landon, Fiah wasn't sure exactly what she _should_ do.

_This is why the rogue seriously hates Landon. He makes things confusing, damn it._

Luckily, Landon took charge and wrapped her in a tight hug, and Fiah allowed him to hold her considerably longer than Leliana had. "I missed you," the mage whispered, letting his cheek rest on her head.

Fiah just smiled in answer. If she had been capable of words, she would've said something along the lines of _I missed you, too_, but her mind didn't seem to be working in a coherent fashion, so she remained silent and allowed herself to forget the fact that four pairs of curious eyes were lingering on their lengthy embrace.

_Well, three pairs. Morrigan is probably more judgmental than curious._

It wasn't until Faelid cleared his throat that Fiah forced herself to pull away from Landon. "Who is this, exactly?" Faelid asked, his tone more demanding than the situation required.

"Leliana, Alistair, Morrigan, Landon." Fiah pointed to each of them in turn. "I travelled with them. And, if it's okay, I'd like to travel with them again."

_Mission: Break The News is successful._

"So you _are_ leaving?"

_Mission: Don't Piss Off Faelid, not so successful._

"If you'd like, you're welcome to travel with us again," Alistair offered diplomatically.

"The Alienage needs you," Faelid argued. "You can't just _leave_ after everything you've seen."

_Don't punch him in the throat. Don't punch him in the throat._

"Please, Faelid," she sighed, "don't do this. I have to. I told you—the healers are coming. They'll be here soon."

"I can't let you leave."

_Okay. Maybe punch him just a little._

"If you _truly_ wish to come with us, then come," Morrigan interjected, her hands planted firmly on her hips. "I have a favor to ask of you, and it isn't one I would trust to anyone else."

"Morrigan," Alistair gasped, feigning disbelief, "did you just admit that you trust Fiah? Are you allowed to do that?"

Leliana rolled her eyes, Landon sighed, but Fiah just grinned at the bickering pair. _Screw Faelid. I'm totally going back with them. Why'd I even leave in the first place?_

"I guess I'll just tell Shianni that you're abandoning us, _again_," Faelid grunted.

Fiah froze, her grin disappearing. "No—no, don't do that. Tell Shianni I've left, but not…" Groaning, she shook her head. The whole point of her trip had been to make Shianni _forgive_ her, not want to _kill_ her.

Faelid wasn't listening; he was already heading back towards the Alienage. "I'm just going to tell her the truth, Fiah," he called over his shoulder. "You're leaving your people to die."

If it weren't for Fiah's injured leg, she knew she would've run after him, or maybe just yelled for him to stop, but she wasn't in any shape to follow him. "Somebody help?" she muttered weakly, glancing up at the group around her.

"Alistair can go," Morrigan volunteered. "Fiah, I need to speak to you before we leave. It involves your…" The witch looked away sheepishly, her golden eyes trained on the ground. "The gift you gave me."

_The grimoire! She wants to talk to me about the grimoire! I _knew_ that stupid thing would make her like me! _

As Fiah began to respond, Leliana grabbed Alistair by the arm. "Let's go. We'll try and talk to the elves, and Morrigan can speak with Fiah." With a smirk at Fiah, she added, "We'll also give Landon and Fiah some time alone."

_The rogue would love some time alone to—Nope. Focus, Fiah._ _Dammit, Landon._

Trying to hide the furious blush that was beginning to form on her cheeks, Fiah pushed past Morrigan, informing the group that she'd be at the tavern whenever they wanted to talk.

* * *

_This is absolutely disgusting. Why _anyone_ would pay for this, I have no idea. _

Fiah stared down into her dented cup of fancy red wine, wondering why she'd even bothered. She'd never really had any sort of alcohol before, mostly because she couldn't ever afford it, but she'd always thought that it would at least taste good.

From her little booth in the corner of the tavern, Fiah had a perfect view of the rest of the tavern, allowing her to people-watch instead of trying to drink the filth that she'd _wasted_ money on. Some part of her knew that she was just waiting for the door to open and reveal Landon—_and Morrigan_, she added as an afterthought—but Fiah was also content with seeing more than was really socially acceptable.

_That man has been ogling the waitress this whole time, and his poor wife has no idea. In his defense, though, his wife is _not_ a pretty woman. Maybe she's rich? Ah – I bet it was an arranged marriage. He probably can't leave her, because her father would be absolutely furious. Yep, I bet there's a lot of money coming in from both sides, and judging by those looks she's giving him, she's probably really trying to make this work. And he's got the nerve to stare at the waitress' ass._

_The bastard._

Fiah's judgmental glare in the man's direction was quickly stifled by Morrigan's arrival. The witch slid into the booth across from Fiah, without so much as a_ hello_. Much to Fiah's relief, she was followed by Landon, who chose to sit next to Fiah.

Before Fiah could ask what Morrigan needed, the witch turned to the other mage and snapped, "I told you this didn't concern you. You are not so dull as Alistair, so why have you followed me?"

"Because I know what you're going to ask," he stated simply. "She can't do it alone."

If Morrigan was discomforted at Landon's knowledge, she didn't show it. Instead, she turned back to Fiah and slowly placed her grimoire on the grimy table, never once taking her eyes from its black cover. "This isn't Flemeth's true grimoire," she revealed. "But it _does_ hold some very important information."

Fiah could practically hear the tension crackle in the air. Immediately intrigued, she leaned forward and asked, "Like what?"

"Flemeth intends to kill me."

"What?" Fiah blinked, not certain she'd heard correctly.

"You heard me," Morrigan scoffed, her lips twisting in disdain. "I'm sure you know what I'm going to ask of you."

_Maker, no. Don't ask this of me. Don't._

"I need you to kill Flemeth."

She remained silent for a moment, waiting for Morrigan to admit she'd misspoke, but it never came. "I can't. I won't kill you mother, Morrigan."

In a show of indifference, Morrigan leaned back and crossed her arms, staring down the bridge of her nose at Fiah. "You would rather have Flemeth use my body to sustain her unnatural immortality? Yes, 'tis _truly _the better decision." She waved her hand dismissively, then sighed and offered, "Perhaps 'twould help if I told you that she wouldn't actually be dead. There's no doubt that Flemeth will find some other way to manifest herself after you've struck her down. All _I _need is a bit of time."

But Fiah had already made up her mind. Immortal Witch of the Wilds or not, Flemeth was still Morrigan's mother, and Fiah knew enough about losing family to know that Morrigan would regret it. Rather, she _should_ regret it. Fiah wasn't going to play any part in killing her _mother_.

Even the thought brought up too many painful memories.

"No. I won't do it." Suddenly needing to out of the crowded tavern, Fiah motioned for Landon to move and pushed past him, heading straight for the door.

_What do I do about Loghain, now? I can't travel with the Wardens with Morrigan asking me to kill Flemeth. Oh, Maker, what do I do?_

Fiah had nearly run into Tanya before she saw her. The Warden, with Alistair in tow, looked genuinely concerned at Fiah's obvious franticness. "What's going on?" she asked gently. Fiah just shook her head, and Tanya prodded, "Is something wrong with the Alienage? Alistair said that you've helped them."

"I didn't _help_ them," Fiah insisted, not in the mood for talking. Her words had come out much sharper and venomous than she had intended, but she didn't care. She needed to be out in the forest, hunting. She wanted to maul something. Maker, she wanted to kill a bear. "I asked Howe for help. _He's _helping them," she spat, "not me."

"Howe?" Tanya whispered in disbelief. "You went to _Howe_ for help?"

The pain in her voice couldn't have been clearer if she'd shouted at Fiah. The rogue kicked herself mentally, remembering that Tanya wasn't particularly fond of Denerim's new arl. "Yes. I didn't know what else to do," she admitted sharply. "Howe and Loghain were willing to help, so I took it."

It was Alistair's turn to question her, and his anger wasn't contained to a quiet whisper. "Loghain?" he demanded. "Not just Howe, but _Loghain_? The man responsible for Cailan and Duncan's deaths? You actually trusted Loghain?"

_That makes four out of seven companions who are pissed at the rogue. Landon probably isn't too happy, either, and Wynne is just annoying. _

_I guess I'm spending the rest of my time with Leliana. _

Fiah gritted her teeth, finding herself subconsciously yearning to join the Dalish and live a peaceful, simple life. But instead, she was stuck in a city where every good decision she'd tried to make in the past twenty-four hours was leading to people overreacting and yelling at her.

Well, it was time for Fiah to overreact.

"I didn't know any of these people who died. Cailan and Duncan and Cousland—all just _names_ to me," Fiah pointed out angrily, "but I grew up with the elves in that Alienage. I don't care what Howe and Loghain did before, because _now_ they're saving lives." Overwhelmed with a sudden feeling of _Oh shit, you're going to regret that_, Fiah spun on her heel—holding back a grunt of pain as the gash on her left leg screamed in protest—and marched out of the city, not stopping until she made it to the edge of the forest.

With any luck, there would be an angry bear somewhere in the forest. With a bit more luck, there'd be a small army of angry bears, and Fiah could kill them all.

Saving elves and not killing mothers—both apparently bad decisions.

Mauling bears while armed with nothing but anger—well, Fiah figured she couldn't really go wrong with that.


	14. Mage

**A/N:** Sorry for being a day late! :O

Real life has been rough. I've been way too busy, but I won't make this a habit, I promise!

Anyway, we get a chapter full of Landon. Then it's off to see Flemeth!

As always, reviews are loved and welcomed! :)

* * *

It didn't take Fiah long to realize that she'd made a mistake.

Going after a small army of bears was all fine and well, but she didn't have any armor, and instead of her beloved bow, she had a pair of small daggers.

Fiah was very well aware that she couldn't take on even a single bear in her current state. So instead, she followed the forest's stream, kicking off her ragged boots and walking along the slippery stones at the water's cool edge. The stream trickled into a small pond, where Fiah could usually count on finding a deer or two. Today, though, she was alone in the little clearing.

In the afternoon heat, Fiah was tempted to go for a swim, but she knew she wouldn't; it had been years since she'd actually been swimming here. Her father had tried to teach her, once, but he'd died before Fiah had ever been able to do more than bob up and down to keep her head above water.

Instead, Fiah let the water trickle over her feet, basking in the streams of light that were able to force through the forest canopy. By the time was ready to leave, the sun was already dipping below the trees, and had sunk below the horizon when Fiah emerged back onto the road.

As Fiah approached the city gates, she caught sight of someone leaning against the stone wall, looking rather bored. He perked up as Fiah came closer, and she felt her face flush as she realized it was Landon.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked innocently, feeling suddenly foolish for running off.

Landon didn't answer right away, instead smiling at Fiah like she was the only thing in the world he cared about at that moment. "I wanted to talk to you about Morrigan's offer," he admitted after a moment. "I talked to Alistair about it, and I think there's a way to… to make it work for everyone."

_Morrigan_ was the last thing Fiah wanted to talk about, but she was also intrigued by Landon and Alistair's idea. She dismissed her own conflictions with a sigh and brushed off a speck of inevitable dirt from her pants, knowing full well that it was too dark to tell if she'd made any sort of difference. "I doubt Morrigan would agree to anything Alistair had to say. Besides, doesn't she want this to stay a secret?"

He shrugged. "Morrigan _isn't_ agreeing to what Alistair and I decided, and she doesn't know that I told him."

"Sneaky." Trying—and failing—to hold back a grin, Fiah added, "You've got a bit of rogue in you, huh?"

"Absolutely not." Landon narrowed his eyes at Fiah, any hint of a smile gone. "We wouldn't be doing this if it weren't necessary."

"Alright. Whatever. What's the plan?" Fiah decided that, for the moment, she could forgive Landon's impatience with rogues, trickery, and other shadowy things that she enjoyed.

Landon hesitated. "We don't know."

"Don't know?"

"We don't think Flemeth is stupid enough to entertain the idea that we could kill her. She knows she's strong enough to not even have to worry about it—she's _Flemeth_," Landon stressed. "We want to try and talk to her."

For a moment, Fiah forgot her slight fascination—_slight, mind you_—with Landon; she was annoyed with the mage. Outright annoyed.

_Flemeth is smart enough and strong enough to wipe us off the face of Thedas before we even leave Denerim—yes. But, she's also smart enough to _not_ negotiate with us, and strong enough that we can't argue with her._

_Hell, if she's anything like Morrigan, we're better off not even trying._

"You don't think very highly of our idea," Landon stated flatly.

"Was I _that_ obvious?" Fiah scoffed, crossing her arms. With a little sigh, she conceded, "I don't have a problem with the plan, it's just that… I mean, it's _Flemeth_. I just don't know…"

Taking a step forward, Landon placed his hands on Fiah's shoulders and looked her straight in the eyes. "We'll be fine, Fiah. Alistair's agreed to come, and he's a fantastic warrior. I'm not such a terrible mage, if I do say so myself."

Fiah mumbled an agreement, praying it was too dark for Landon to see the way her cheeks lit up with a furious blush. "Leliana could come too, I suppose? That leaves Tanya with Morrigan, Wynne, and Kielle."

"And Zevran."

"Zevran?"

Landon laughed lightly. "Our newest friend. He's frustrating, but once he gives up on trying to sleep with you he's not so bad." He looked away for a moment, then chuckled again. "Alistair can't catch a break."

For a reason that Fiah couldn't explain, she felt the need to make sure that Landon wasn't having any trouble with the Wardens; Fiah had just left him with them, after all. "So, you and Alistair get along alright?" she muttered, uncharacteristically quiet. As soon as the words left her lips, she felt foolish for asking them, and ducked her head.

_Damn it, woman. Just stop talking. Go home. It's all your fault, Landon._

But Landon, it seemed, understood her concern. Instead of laughing, or anything else Fiah was afraid he might do, he nodded and smiled and led the way back into the city. "I was a bit skeptical of Alistair at first—the whole _Templar_ thing, you know—but he's a good guy. Tanya keeps to herself, mostly, and Morrigan…" He shrugged. "She's not as terrible as we were always told the Witches of the Wilds are. Kielle is… interesting. She—"

"_Interesting_?" Fiah quipped, a sudden spark of unintended jealousy shooting through her.

"Interesting," Landon repeated, without missing a beat. "She's made it obvious that she knows you, but she won't talk about you." There was a pause, then he added, "I've asked. She won't say a thing."

Fiah was so relieved at Landon's explanation and uneasy at the thought of having to explain the story behind her and Kielle that she didn't notice the sentimentality behind Landon's statement. They walked in silence after that, until they had nearly reached the Alienage.

The gates to the Alienage were closed, and in front of them stood Soris and an unfamiliar guard. Next to Soris were two crates, which Fiah assumed held either food or medicine. "What's going on?" she called out as she and Landon approached.

"Fiah!" Soris breathed in relief. "The Tevinter mages showed up about an hour ago, and they've said the Alienage is worse than they expected. I had to run and get lyrium potions." He motioned to the crates. "This is literally the entire stock in all of Denerim."

Fiah looked from the crates to the guard, eyeing him warily. The guard sneered back in response. "I'm under orders. The gates stay closed from sundown to sunup. Loghain's orders."

"Why?"

"To keep the disease from spreading."

She rolled her eyes. "It's just from the rotten food. We've nearly taken care of it."

"Loghain's orders," the guard repeated. "He says the mages need a sort of quarantine."

"But the quarantine doesn't matter if they can't get the—" Soris broke off his argument with a grunt.

"Let me handle this." Motioning for Soris and Landon to stand back, Fiah moved in closer to the guard. "I'm working with Loghain," she whispered, hoping that her inconvenient encounter with Loghain could work in her favor. "I'm watching the Wardens for him. I need a decent night's sleep to do that, don't you think?"

The guard gave a disgruntled sigh, but decided, "I'll open the gates. Just once, though. No coming back out of there."

Fiah's gaze flicked back to the crates. She wasn't sure how Soris had managed to carry both of the crates before, but there was no way he could get them into the Alienage, and her leg was still too injured. As in acting on cue, the gash on her leg began to sting. "I know it's a lot to ask… too much, really, but…" She looked up at Landon, who nodded in understanding.

"You're going to let me heal that."

"Yes," Fiah conceded tiredly, "I most definitely am." Forcing her mind away from the fact that Landon would be staying with her—_in her house—_overnight, Fiah nodded in thanks to the guard, and led the way as the gate opened just enough for the trio to make it through. They dropped the crates off at the rundown building that the mages were using, and Soris gave Fiah a quick hug goodbye, assuring her that he'd calm Faelid down after she'd left. With that, Fiah led Landon to her own house, grimacing at the sight of the crooked door and weathered roof. "Home sweet home," she muttered, swinging the door open and standing in the front room for a moment, her eyes sweeping the place. She hadn't been expecting guests, but luckily it wasn't _too_ out of sorts. "If you can ignore the blood stains and the fact that it smells like shit, it isn't so bad."

From behind her, Landon chuckled. "The smell reminds me of you, actually." Fiah spun around, raising one of her eyebrows quizzically, just in time to see Landon's eyes grow wide. "Not like—That's not— Oh, Maker save me," he sighed. "The smell. It reminds me of…" He paused again, searching for words. "Cobblestones. But, it also smells like the forest."

"Oh, good," Fiah teased, "I thought you meant I smelled like shit. I'd be okay with that, but it's a bit rude to say, isn't it?" She tacked on a nervous laugh, hoping she didn't sound as anxious as she truly was. "So, umm… this is the bedroom." Playing with the edge of her sleeve, Fiah rocked back on her heels and breathed out slowly. "You can have, you know, the bed, and I'll take the floor."

"No," Landon objected. "You don't have to—"

"Just take the bed. You don't want to make me a bad host, do you?"

"Fine," he sighed, "but only if you let me heal that leg of yours."

"Yes, please." Fiah plopped down in front of the fire place, halfway wishing it weren't empty, and kicked off her boots. She carefully rolled up the leg of her pants, exposing the sweaty bandage.

_Gross. Gross. You're letting Landon—and it's sweaty, and gross! Oh, Maker, and he's—Fiah, you're an idiot. Such an idiot._

With a little groan, Fiah began to remove the cloth bandage.

"You've been keeping medicine on it," Landon observed as he sat next to her, his tone approving. "That makes my job easier. Just lean back and relax," he instructed. "The magic might make you a bit sleepy, that's fine. That means it's working. Just relax," he repeated.

Fiah did as told, snatching a pillow from the bed to rest her head on. Squeezing the pillow close to her, she closed her eyes and did her best not to think about Landon's magic-laden fingers caressing the wounded skin of her leg.

* * *

_You sneaky, sneaky little man. _

Fiah sat upright, pulling the covers with her. Her previously-injured leg felt wonderful, and she had woken up in her own bed, on her own lumpy mattress, beneath her own scratchy sheets.

_That's what I get for falling asleep. Landon has to go and be a damned gentleman._

Where the mage was now, Fiah didn't know; he wasn't in the little house, and she assumed that he'd gone back to the tavern where the Wardens were staying since the Alienage gates would be opened. Fiah didn't know, but she was going to find out.

Shielding her eyes from the bright morning sunlight, Fiah slipped into her armor, grabbed her bow, and slung her pack and quiver over her shoulder. Once again, she left her house without even a single glance back.

Fiah didn't have to go far to find Landon; he was standing in the marketplace of Denerim with Alistair and Tanya. The rogue sauntered up to the trio, grinning at her rediscovered mobility. "Good morning. What's the plan for today?"

"Alistair says you're going to the Wilds," Tanya muttered, obviously displeased. "The three of you, along with Leliana, correct?" Alistair and Landon nodded in unison. "Well, I suppose we'll meet up in Redcliffe again," she sighed.

"We were just getting a few more supplies," Alistair explained. "We're ready to leave whenever you are."

Fiah nodded. "Let's go get Leliana."

_This better work, or I'll have one more thing to yell at Landon for._

_Damn gentleman._


	15. Smitten

**A/N: **Well, we get a short chapter this week. The next couple of chapters will deal with Ostagar, and I didn't want to get into that too early.

Also, besides having Landon being awesome, we also get some Alistair cuteness. [Teaser: the rose scene is coming soon, but in a completely new way ;)]

Anyway, thoughts on my Alistair? I've tried to write him in a way that's not completely helpless, with a bit more sass and sarcasm but still be true to character.

* * *

As strange as it might have sounded, Fiah was jealous of Alistair.

Very jealous, in fact; so jealous that she didn't even respond when Leliana suggested the group stop for the night. The bard had been leading them for nearly the entire day, full of her usual energy, while Fiah skulked at the very back, trudging along with a rather unusual amount of negativity.

_Alistair_ had the nerve to walk with a little spring in his step, occasionally laughing or shrugging and always talking just low enough that Fiah couldn't eavesdrop. And all the while, Alistair was his typical light-hearted self, completely unaware of the steaming rogue behind him.

Fiah's day only improved when she learned that they'd only brought three tents, and she'd be forced to sleep outside. Upon hearing this, she excused herself and left the campsite, searching for a tree to climb. Unfortunately for her, there wasn't anything close, and she didn't want to stray too far until after dinner. Fiah followed the glow of the fire back to camp, plopping down next to Leliana as she stirred a stew that smelled suspiciously Orlesian.

"You're angry," she noted. "Does it perhaps have to do with Alistair stealing Landon's attention from you?"

Fiah wanted to tell Leliana to be quieter, but she knew it wouldn't stop her, and besides, the camp was empty except for the two women. "Where are they, anyway?"

"You _are_ jealous," Leliana giggled.

"Please don't."

"They've gone to search for a river. There's supposed to be one nearby." The bard turned her attention from the stew to look at Fiah. "You needn't worry about Landon. He's very…" She paused, tipping her face upwards thoughtfully. "_Smitten_. He's smitten with you."

"Nope. No, he isn't." Fiah made a show of clamping her hands over her ears, as if to demonstrate that she wasn't listening. "Nobody's smitten with anybody else! Not listening!"

"Oh, stop it!" Leliana stretched forward and grabbed Fiah's wrists, tugging her hands away from her ears. "It's very romantic, you know," she added softly. She looked down at her hands, which still held Fiah's, and let go suddenly. "Oh, I'm sorry," she apologized awkwardly.

But Fiah wasn't paying much attention; Alistair and Landon were making their way back to the camp, and were talking in hushed voices. She could just barely make out the last bit of their conversation.

"—not _her_," Alistair was saying.

"Fiah, then," Landon suggested.

"I suppose."

"Go. Just talk to her."

By the time they'd made it to the fire, Leliana was already dishing out portions of the stew into little wooden bowls. Fiah happily accepted hers, then retreated to an area relatively untouched by the firelight, hoping for a quiet meal. All three of her companions had been acting strangely the entire day, and Fiah was beginning to feel like she'd missed something while she'd been in Denerim.

As she munched on something that she thought was a potato—it was hard to tell with Leliana's fancy Orlesian stews—Alistair brought his bowl and sat next to Fiah. "You don't mind, do you?"

She shook her head. _It's a bit late, anyway. Isn't that typically something you ask _before_ you sit down?_

"So, Fiah," Alistair began, "you're a female."

"Just figured that out, have you?" _Maker, I sound like Morrigan. _

Alistair was silent for a moment. "No. That's not what I meant. I mean—" He stopped suddenly, peering into his bowl of stew as if it might hold the answers he was looking for. "If, say, someone thought you were really special, what would be the best way for them to express that?"

Fiah's mind was suddenly filled with Landon, miracles, and elation. Somehow, she managed to push it aside and focus just enough to say, "A really nice way."

_…what did I just say? Did—did I really just…?_

Luckily, Alistair gave a light—if embarrassed—chuckle. "I mean, I figured _that_ much out. I just don't want to do something that'll make me look stupid."

Without saying anything, Fiah stared down at her nearly-empty bowl and searched for a slightly more intelligent answer than the first one she'd given. "So who's the lucky girl?" she asked, attempting to shift the focus from her to Alistair. "_Morrigan_?"

"Maker, no!" Alistair grimaced. "And I'm not telling you."

Grateful that she was no longer the subject of the discussion, Fiah grinned. "Oh, I'll figure it out. It's not Morrigan, probably not Wynne, nobody likes Kielle…" She trailed off, pretending to be deep in thought. "Hmmm. Leliana?"

"I'm not really her type."

"So?"

"No," Alistair insisted, "like, I'm _really _not her _type_. As in…"

"Oh." Fiah felt her eyes grow wide with understanding. "As in…"

Alistair nodded.

"Anyway." She cleared her throat. "You were telling me who the lucky girl is."

"Was I? Because I recall being about to go get a second serving." With one of his little grins, Alistair rose and left Fiah alone.

_Dammit! He's not allowed to win! _

"Tanya!"

Alistair froze in his place, then laughed nervously. "Nice try," he called over his shoulder. Instead of getting more to eat, he left his bowl and came straight back to Fiah.

Before he could say anything, Fiah blurted, "Whatever you do, it probably won't be stupid."

Hesitating, Alistair gave her a skeptical look. "What exactly makes you say that?"

Stifling an evil grin, Fiah shrugged and stood, not bothering to answer. If Alistair was going to steal Landon away from her, she wasn't going to tell him that it was fairly easy to see how Tanya felt about him. Ignoring Alistair's protests, Fiah grabbed her bow and set off towards the Wilds, hoping for a little peace before she came back to camp to sleep.

* * *

The little group reached Morrigan and Flemeth's hut late the next afternoon. They had walked around the Wilds for much longer than their map suggested they should've had to, but Alistair staunchly refused to take the lead, leaving Leliana—and eventually Fiah, as well—to decipher the map and their surroundings.

When they finally stumbled upon the hut, an old woman stood near the front door, her hands on her hips and a quizzical squint upon her face. "Took you long enough," she taunted as the group approached.

"Oh," Alistair grunted, "not this again. You've been expecting us, right?

"Well, you've been traipsing around the Wilds for hours. I tried counting how many circles you ran around my hut—I lost count." She turned back to the rest of the group, inspecting them each in turn. "Morrigan and the other Warden aren't among you," she muttered in observation. "So, she found it, did she?"

_…this is Flemeth?_

_First Loghain, now Flemeth. These legends really need to get their facts straight, because these guys don't look _anything_ like they do in the stories._

"The grimoire?" Leliana stepped forward, taking charge when Alistair didn't answer. "Yes, we found it in the Circle, but Morrigan says it isn't the true grimoire."

Flemeth laughed, a hysterical cackle that grated on Fiah's ears. "She sent you to kill me, then? No need. You can have my true grimoire."

_Riiiiiight. What's the catch?_

"You would simply give it to us?" Leliana questioned, her words mirroring Fiah's own worries.

"Yes. Tell Morrigan I'm dead. She won't know the difference."

"Umm…" Leliana turned back to the group, whispering, "This is the better path, yes?"

Alistair crossed his arms, pretending to mull the thought over. "Well, I _did_ come all this way to deceive Morrigan. I'd be pretty disappointed if we didn't."

Landon simply nodded, and Fiah cast a quick glance back at Flemeth before giving a nod of her own. Flemeth handed a key to Leliana, who followed the Witch inside the little hut and came back outside holding a thick tome. She handed the book to Alistair, who shoved it in his pack, and led the group back into the Wilds.

Fiah followed silently, thoroughly disappointed. She was, of course, glad that they hadn't needed to kill Morrigan's mother, but she'd hoped there would at least be a _tiny_ bit of conniving and threatening.

They hadn't made it very far before Alistair called for them to stop. "We're really close to Ostagar," he admitted, almost sheepishly. "Do you think…I mean, since everything went over so well with Flemeth, we have a bit of time to spare. Could we maybe go back to Ostagar?"

Fiah shrugged and Leliana looked ready to agree, but Landon hesitated. "Are you sure?"

Alistair ran a hand through his hair and let out a long, slow breath. "No, but remember what we talked about?"

The mage nodded. "If that's what you want."

"It is." The words came out with more conviction than Fiah thought she'd heard Alistair muster since she'd met him.

Leliana unfurled the map and studied it for a moment, then smiled and pointed to their right. "Let's go."

Fiah wasn't sure why, but the name _Ostagar_ seemed vaguely familiar, and not in a good sort of way.


	16. Ruined

**A/N: **Sorry I haven't posted! I ended up not having access to my laptop for while. I don't know if anyone has even looked at my profile page, but if I go too long without an update, I'll try my very hardest to post on my profile why and/or when I'll be posting again.

Also, I'm now technically a day early. :P I've got way too many tests tomorrow, so I decided it's better to be early than (more) late!

Not too much going on here, just a bit of fun with Landon and Alistair. These next couple of chapters are full of Alistair!

...and there's also a super cute Landon/Fiah scene coming up soon. ;)

One last thing - if you haven't checked out "Collision," it's a quick look at Tanya and Co.'s time in the Brecilian Forest! Pretty please leave some reviews with your thoughts!

* * *

They reached Ostagar after just a few minutes of walking. Alistair had called it _ruins_, and Fiah had to agree that it was exactly that—ruined. Stone, wood, and other debris were scattered among the remaining walls, along with twisted, gnarled remnants of broken weapons and the occasional discarded, decaying body part.

The sight was enough to make Fiah's stomach clench, but it was the smell that nearly made her retch; besides the overwhelming pungency of the darkspawn, the odor of sun-baked corpses had settled over the ruins, as if it were engraved into the stones of the walls around them.

They hadn't gone very far when a small group of darkspawn approached them. Fiah grabbed her bow and quickly nocked an arrow, but her view was almost immediately blocked by Alistair charging forward.

"Oh, look," he taunted, "that's where I left you." With a sort of snarl, he leapt forward, swinging his sword in a clean arc that lopped off one darkspawn's head. With his shield, Alistair rammed into a second, driving his sword through one of the two remaining creatures.

Fiah thought about pitching in, but eventually let her bowstring go slack, stuffing the unused arrow back in her quiver. By then, Alistair had finished with the darkspawn and was trudging back to the group, breathing heavily.

"Got a bit carried away, didn't I?"

Landon nodded.

The templar heaved a sigh, then looked back over his shoulder. "Let's go. I want to kill every damned darkspawn here, then I want to leave." With that, he turned and led the way through the ruins.

Fiah took a few quick steps forward to catch up with Landon. "What happened here, exactly?" As hard as she was trying, Fiah couldn't remember why the name _Ostagar_ was familiar.

"It was the Grey Wardens' camp," Landon explained quietly, in a voice so low Fiah could barely hear. "It's where Loghain and his men left the king to die, along with all the Grey Wardens."

"So… Duncan?"

The mage nodded, stealing a concerned glance up at Alistair. "He lost everything that night, Fiah. This is hard for him."

"Duncan was just his Commander, though, right?"

Landon hesitated. "It's not my place to explain. If you want the whole story, you'll have to talk to Alistair."

Fiah was about to argue, but was interrupted by a second wave of darkspawn. Once again, before she could fully draw her bow, Alistair had leapt straight into the group. From beside Fiah, Landon got in a spell or two, but neither Fiah nor Leliana contributed much to the battle.

_The rogue could get used to this. Yes, let's let Alistair do all the work from now on. I'll just be over here, napping. And looting the bodies. And maybe eating. I _am_ a bit hungry, now that I think of it…_

"Maker, Alistair!" Landon's cry brought Fiah back into reality, and she gasped involuntarily at the sight of the entire left side of Alistair's face covered in bright crimson blood.

"It's just a scratch," Alistair insisted weakly, stumbling towards the group and planting himself firmly at Landon's feet. "It's sort of… itchy. Can you fix that?" A gloved hand reached up to his face, but Landon promptly swatted it away.

"Don't touch it, Alistair. Leliana, Fiah," he called, "set up camp. It's going to take a decent amount of magic to heal this up."

The concern in his voice made Fiah swell up with pride. Why, she wasn't sure, and she didn't feel like thinking about it too much. Or at all, because that meant thinking about Landon and when she thought about Landon too much she tended to lost track of her thoughts and one thing led to another and soon she was rambling on and on to herself and—

"Fiah?"

"Coming!" Fiah shook her head to clear her thoughts and went to help Leliana. They set up the three tents quickly, and while Fiah sifted through the available food, Leliana gathered some of the debris around them and got a fire started. "Who was in charge of buying the food?" she asked as the bard joined her.

"Landon, I think."

_Oh, he's sooo funny._ "That explains the bear meat, then."

"What?"

Fiah waved her hand dismissively. "Long story." _I never should have told him about the bears. Actually, if I'd never been out in that damned forest in the first place, looking for bears—Maker, I was hunting bears. Seriously, Fiah? That was unintelligent all by itself. It sounds even worse when you _say_ it. Oh, hi, Landon! I'm hunting bears! Oh, you stupid little mage. _

"Someone bring a lyrium potion. A health poultice, too, maybe."

"I'll get it," Fiah offered, with a bit more enthusiasm than was necessary, jumping up and leaving Leliana with the responsibility of making dinner. The rogue grabbed her pack, rummaged through until she'd found a handful of potions and a poultice, and bounded over to where Landon was taking care of Alistair.

"I can't see anymore," Alistair mumbled. "Is that normal?"

"Just stay quiet," Landon ordered gently. "The more you talk, the longer this takes."

"Head is spinning…"

"I brought the potions," Fiah offered, holding out the little blue vials to Landon. The gash on Alistair's forehead had shrunk considerably, but blood was still smeared all over his face and now on Landon's hands. "Do you want me to get a towel, or a rag, or something?" she offered awkwardly, feeling like she should help but not sure how to.

"Do we have any water to spare?"

Mentally taking inventory, Fiah shook her head. "Not really. There's a stream pretty close by, though. Right outside the ruins, towards the Wilds. I can go get some."

She began to walk away, but Landon grabbed her arm with his less-bloodied hand. "It's too dangerous, Fiah. Please, don't go by yourself. We can get some more tomorrow, when it's lighter." His brow creased in silent concern, and Fiah felt her will melt completely.

"Okay, sure," she agreed, not sure exactly where the words came from or how her lips were forming them. Instead of getting water from the stream, Fiah used some of her own supply to get a spare rag wet and brought it over to Landon and Alistair. Landon carefully scrubbed the already-drying blood from Alistair's forehead, then smeared some of the health poultice on the mostly-healed gash. "We've got plenty of poultices," Fiah informed him, and he shrugged and spread even more of the paste onto the wound.

"There's no good way to bandage this, so be careful," he warned Alistair. "Why don't you just go sit by the fire until Leliana's finished with the food, and then you should probably get straight to sleep."

Alistair began to nod, but stopped almost immediately. "Sounds like a plan," he groaned, standing slowly.

As soon as Alistair was seated with Leliana, Landon swayed a bit on his feet and sat down right where he was. "Fiah? Do me a favor, please, and get me a piece of bread or something."

Suddenly alight with concern and surprise at Landon's abrupt change in mood, Fiah scurried back over to the fire and grabbed some bread and water from her pack, leaving the bloody rag on a pile of stones she thought might have once been a statue and grabbing a clean rag to bring back to Landon. She sat cross-legged next to him, unconsciously leaning forward towards him as he slowly ate the bread and sipped at the water.

"Thank you," he said earnestly, looking up at Fiah.

When his blue eyes met hers, she felt a blush creep onto her cheeks and looked away, toying with a fraying string on her gloves. "You're welcome," she muttered in return, a smile breaking onto her reluctant lips. She dared to look back up at him, her smile widening at his grin. "So," she began, searching for something to say and choosing the first topic that came to mind, "I think I'm going to see if there's anything valuable on those bodies."

_…you're going to do what?_

_Maker, Fiah. Stop talking._

_Seriously._

Allowing her mental dialogue to continue to berate her poor choice in conversation, Fiah stood and headed back towards the fire, grabbing her bow and quiver just in case any other darkspawn caught sight of her. And, besides, she wanted to have a little fun of her own; it wasn't fair to let Alistair do all the killing all the time, after all.

There wasn't anything particularly interesting to gather from the dead creatures, but Fiah did find a crate with a few more lyrium potions to replace the ones that Landon had used while healing Alistair. On the other side of the clearing, there was a weapon rack with a pair of daggers that Fiah figured might interest Leliana. When she finally made her way back to camp, something on the bodies caught her eye that she hadn't seen before.

On one of the darkspawn, looking rather out of place among the other grimy, battered armor, were a pair of dull golden greaves. Two thoughts flashed through Fiah's mind at that moment.

_Those look expensive. I could sell those for a _lot_ of money._

_They're also probably not from the darkspawn. I bet those belonged to someone rather important._

Almost guiltily, Fiah elected to share the find with the group, rather than stashing them away and selling them later. She tugged the boots off of the corpse, suppressing a squeal of _Ew, gross! _ and wiping as much gore and mud off of them as she could. When they were sufficiently clean, Fiah tucked them under one arm and grabbed her bow with the other, heading straight for the camp. The sun had already set, and the fire was a welcome beacon amongst the shadows cast by the walls that were still standing.

"I found something interesting!" she announced as she bounded into camp, tossing her bow to the ground near her bedroll and holding out the greaves proudly.

Alistair, though already pale from blood loss, turned even paler at seeing the greaves. "Those are…"

Leliana nodded alongside him. "I would never have thought they could be recovered. Perhaps the rest is out there, as well?"

"So, I did good?" Fiah assumed. "Just how good did I do?"

"Really, really good." Alistair stared into the fire, and just as Fiah was about to ask for clarification, he turned back to her and squinted at the boots. "Without a doubt, those belong to Cailan."

"Cailan?!" In the sudden disgust and shock known only to a thief who has unknowingly stolen something much more valuable than intended, Fiah dropped the greaves and recoiled her hands, holding them close to her stomach and distancing herself from the boots. "Those… those are Cailan's? As in, the _dead king_ Cailan?"

Alistair offered her another silent nod. Leliana reached over and picked up the greaves, muttering, "I'll see if I can clean them up." She rose and took them to her tent, and Alistair and Fiah were alone.

"If we can find Cailan's things…" The templar cocked his head, once again staring intently into the flames. "Maybe. It's possible, I think."

Now over her earlier shock, Fiah joined Alistair at the fire pit, groaning as she sat. "What's possible?"

He didn't answer for a moment. "Duncan."

Fiah sighed, wondering if Alistair wasn't a _bit_ obsessed with this _Duncan_ character. "Alistair, why are we here? I mean, why are we _really _here? Why did you want to come?"

"I don't expect you to understand, or for it to sound… not stupid," he mumbled, "but it's closure, I think. And a bit of revenge. It's…" Alistair trailed off, his voice hardening in frustration. "I don't know, okay? It just… felt _right_ to do."

Fiah did her best not to roll her eyes, but she didn't think she was exactly successful. "They're dead, Alistair. What do you think coming back is going to fix?" She understood; everything he was saying, everything it seemed he was going through, she understood it all too well. What she didn't understand, though, was the _dwelling_. Losing someone was hard, she knew that, but she also knew how important it was to pick yourself up and move past it, because the world wouldn't wait while you were busy mourning.

And in Alistair's case, the world literally needed him.

Apparently, though, Alistair didn't seem to understand that.

"What do I think it's going to fix?" he snapped. "Nothing. I know that, Fiah. This is just my way of trying to deal with it." Alistair leaned forward, glaring at his hands.

Fiah felt the edges of her lips tug into the beginning of a sardonic little grin. "_This_ is dealing with it?"

_Well, now it's Fiah's time to go bat-shit crazy, because, frankly, she thinks Alistair deserves it. _

_You want to know what it means to _deal_ with the death of someone you love? Well, I'll tell you._

* * *

**A/N:** Yes, this means what you think it does. Saturday we get to hear the whole story behind Fiah's father! *drum roll*


	17. Truth

**A/N: **Another short chapter :/

Buuuut, we finish up Ostagar next time, and then it's off to Orzammar! As promised, we get to find out the story behind Fiah's father, as well as part one of the famous rose scene.

Yes, there's a part two!

* * *

"Let me tell you a story." Somehow, Fiah managed to keep her voice level. "Once upon a time, there was a little girl who lived in the Alienage. Her mother was dead, but her father loved her very much." She stood, her rage manifesting itself in a spurt of anxious energy. "Her father, you see, went hunting in the woods so that his daughter didn't starve. One day, they were caught hunting together, and they were taken to the arl's estate to await their punishment. As they were walking through the estate, the girl's father knew their lives were in danger, so he gave her a simple task—run. Run away, and don't look back, or wait for him, or ever stop because she wouldn't ever be safe." By then, Fiah's voice was a shaky mess and tears were beginning to make her eyes sting; through her blurry vision, she could see Alistair still hunched over, not having moved since she'd begun her little rant. "So she ran," she choked out, "and her father was killed, and she made the mistake of looking back, and—" Her words ceased to come, the tears spilling over and the only noise from her lips being a tortured sob.

"Fiah," Alistair offered softly, "I'm sorry."

"She _dealt with it_," Fiah continued, ignoring his words. "She didn't go back to the estate, or try to get _revenge_ or anything stupid. There was no higher purpose, no distractions, no _dwelling_. If I wanted to eat," she snarled, "I had to get off my ass and go hunt." Unable to contain her frustration and the ever-lingering pain of her father's memory, Fiah stomped out of camp, heading back into the Wilds and hoping she wasn't attacked by anything.

There was a certain calming that came with the revealing of her father's death. Fiah had only told one other person, Cyrion, the afternoon that it had happened, and she hadn't ever told anyone else. Her answer had always been some vague variant of "The arl's men got him," which the elves understood.

Why she'd spilled the whole story, Fiah didn't know. Sure, she had been trying to make a point, but she could've simply said that after her father had died, she'd had to fend for herself. Instead, though, she'd told Alistair the one thing she held closest to her, and she wasn't sure what to do now that it was out in the open.

Fiah decided she didn't want to think anymore. She might not have lied when she'd said she couldn't afford to sit and mope about her father, but the real truth was that she didn't _want_ to. It was so much easier to push things aside than to deal with them head on. So, instead of mulling over apologies and accusations and anything else she would probably throw at Alistair when she finally returned to camp, Fiah hoisted herself up into a tree and closed her eyes, focusing on anything and everything else.

The sounds of the forest came to life around her, and she once again thought about going to the Dalish.

_But that was _his _dream, not mine. I've got the Wardens. _

* * *

It was well after midnight when Fiah finally returned to camp. Landon and Leliana were in their tents, presumably sleeping, but Alistair was still hunched over at the fire pit, twirling something in his fingers.

Fiah debated going back into the forests past Ostagar, simply so she wouldn't have to approach Alistair, but he had already seen her.

"I'm sorry," he called out, without looking up from whatever he was holding. "I've been doing some thinking, about earlier, and… and you're right. About the dwelling, that is."

Before she'd stormed off, Fiah probably would've shot back something along the lines of _Hell yes I was right_, but she had since calmed down and merely sat down without saying anything.

"I let myself get carried away," Alistair continued. "I feel so _selfish_," he muttered, his voice lowering until it was barely more than a whisper. "I mean, Tanya lost her whole family, and Wynne and Landon lost their home—none of us are strangers to loss and pain, but here I am acting like I'm the only one who's lost anything." He buried his face in his hands with a furious groan, whatever he was holding drifting down into the dirt at his feet. "Maker, I feel so stupid."

"If Tanya were here," Fiah speculated quietly, "she'd probably be understanding and say that you aren't stupid, or selfish, and that… that it's okay to be, I don't know," she fumbled, not finding the words that the Warden might use. "I guess she'd try and comfort you. I can't do that, though." She shrugged. "Man up, Alistair."

The templar nodded, slowly reaching down to pick up what he'd been holding. Fiah finally saw it was a nearly-wilted rose, with slightly off-color petals that had begun to shrivel and wither. At her questioning stare, Alistair sighed. "I picked it in Lothering."

"You picked it?"

He shrugged. "I thought I could give it to Tanya," he admitted weakly, "but I never worked up the courage."

Fiah felt her face light up with a smile. "You big romantic, you!" she teased.

"I know," Alistair chuckled. "It's stupid. I just wanted to find a way to let her know that she's _special_, you know? I wanted to—roses are romantic, right?" he asked suddenly, his brow creasing in worry.

"Not like this." Fiah reached forward and snatched the rose from Alistair, her other hand darting out to catch a petal as it dropped to the ground. "You've waited too long."

"That's what I was thinking about, actually. You said that I just sat around when it came to Duncan—but I've done that with Tanya, too. If I never make myself tell her…"

"Tell her what?" Fiah prodded, leaning forward expectantly. "That she's like this rose? She's the one rare piece of beauty in such a time of tragedy and darkness?" she sighed dramatically.

Alistair cocked his head to the side. "Well, that certainly sounds better than what _I_ was going to say."

"Well, your idea must have been _terrible_."

"Thanks."

"Anytime." Fiah stared down at the rose for a moment, watching as yet another of the petals spun to the ground. "You can't give her this, though. It's too old and wilted."

"I know," he sighed. "What _can_ I give her, though? It's not like we exactly have the time to shop around until I find the perfect gift." His shoulders slumped forward and he rested his chin in his hands, staring back into the fire.

Fiah's mind drifted back to the castle in Redcliffe, and the pendant Tanya had found in the arl's office. She wasn't sure if Tanya had given it to Alistair—based on his behavior, she figured it was best to assume she hadn't—so she didn't mention it, but it _did_ give her a good idea. "Give her a necklace. We're heading to Orzammar, right? Have someone there make you one."

Alistair straightened, turning towards Fiah. "Yes!" he exclaimed. "And maybe I can even get it enchanted, or something. I mean, I know Sandal does enchantments, but Bodahn likes to gossip. There has to be _someone_ in Orzammar who can enchant a pendant." Turning back to the fire, Alistair rubbed his hands together impatiently. "I never thought I'd say this, but I can't wait until we get to Orzammar."

Fiah laughed lightly, glad that she and Alistair had been able to come to terms without her having to do any difficult talking or listening. She excused herself, explaining she wanted to get a bit of sleep, but Alistair stopped her.

"Thank you," he said earnestly. "Really. For the rose, and… yelling at me."

"It's fine."

"No, I mean it," he insisted. "Like you said—Duncan and Cailan and all the Wardens were just names to you. I can't—shouldn't—expect you to feel the same way about this as I do."

Curiosity then got the better of her. "So, why? Why did they all mean so much to you?"

"Duncan and Cailan were both great at parties," Alistair deflected lightly. "Loghain is too serious and boring. It all has to do with the Grey Warden parties that Duncan threw."

"Duncan, as in the father-figure-of-Alistair Duncan."

"Yes," he sighed, "that Duncan."

"I think I understand." Without another word, Fiah grabbed her bow and headed for the comfort of her bedroll. She could tell from Alistair's tone that he was uncomfortable with the way the conversation had turned, and Fiah was completely fine with letting it end there.

Tomorrow, they could deal with whatever horrors Ostagar handed them. Tonight, she just wanted to sleep.


End file.
